Over the Edge
by Sparky Dorian
Summary: Pre-Point Blank. Neal and Elizabeth have to take on a harmless undercover case. And... well, it turns out that it isn't so harmless. At all. Will Peter be able to get to them in time? Not Neal/El.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hola people! I know I've been absent from the White Collar World for a while, Real Life's been sort of kicking me around. But I'm here, and I've written nearly all of this. It'll be finished before you ever get to the end. Updates will be a little less frequent, but chapters are generally a good deal longer. I would like to dedicate this wholeheartedly to my amazing buddy Angela, who gave me the inspiration for this very unique bit of fanfiction. I hope you all enjoy, and are keeping a religious countdown to the premiere! (There are 77 days, if you're not.) Please drop me a line and let me know how I'm doing! Hopefully they'll keep me sane during my NaNoWriMo adventures. Love you all, sorry for this epistle. Without further ado, enter Neal and Peter! :)_

The smell of fall rain was in the air, and the darkening sky was obscured by thick clouds. The roads of New York were busy, as always, and one black Taurus was stuck in traffic. Inside this vehicle, an FBI Agent and an FBI Consultant were currently _not-arguing._

"Stop smirking like that, Caffrey, it's giving me a headache."

"How does a _smirk_ give you a headache?"

"It's you. Think about it."

"You're just upset because I was right," Neal said, still smirking slightly. _  
_

"You know what-" Peter cut himself off, hands clenching the steering wheel, his voice going forcibly calm. "Neal. Who was right or wrong doesn't matter here. What matters is that we caught the bad guys and they won't be bothering anyone else."

"Right," Neal said, deciding not to argue further. He'd been right and he knew it, and that was enough. Peter shot him a suspicious glance and Neal looked back innocently. Just as they pulled up to the FBI headquarters, Peter let out a sneeze and the car swerved. Neal's hand shot out and grabbed the steering wheel, preventing it from hitting the car next to it by inches.

"Thanks," Peter said, sounding even more tired and wincing. _Does he really have a headache?_

Neal frowned in concern.

"Do you need to go home?" The conman asked casually. "You shouldn't go spreading germs around, and you seem sick."

"No."

"Are you su-"

"Yes." Peter shot Neal a look.

"Okay." Neal put up his hands in surrender and got out of the car, enjoying the cool rainy air on his skin. He looked over at Peter as the agent coughed violently. The coughs didn't stop and Neal frowned again. He removed the car keys from Peter's hand and reopened the drivers' side door.

"Let me drive you to the doctor," Neal said, pushing Peter toward the car as the coughs finally subsided.

"Not happening, Caffrey," Peter said, snatching his keys away.

"You're sick, Peter," Neal insisted. He paused. "I'll call Elizabeth."

"Do that, and you'll be back in an orange jumpsuit before morning."

Neal felt frustration clench in his mind. That was the third time in one short day that Peter had employed some version of that threat. He told himself that it was simply because Peter was ill and was thus short of temper, but it was still discouraging. He didn't enjoy having the man who he considered his partner and friend constantly remind him that he had the power to put Neal back in prison.

_Just let it go,_ he ordered himself. He trailed behind Peter.

"Have it your way, let's go work," Neal said, withholding a sigh. They entered the building and made it all the way into the elevator before Peter started to cough again. Neal watched him with silent concern. Peter was able to stop coughing and regained his composure, but his face looked slightly green. Neal held back another comment and followed Peter into the bullpen.

"Welcome back, Peter," Jones said with a grin. "How did the case go?"

"We got it all wrapped up," Peter said evenly, nodding. He made his way to his office and Jones gave Neal a curious look; Peter had seemed fine that morning, aside from some tiredness. Neal shrugged.

"He's sick, but being stubborn."

Peter beckoned for Neal with a slight glare and Neal followed him up. Jones nodded slowly.

Diana tagged along behind Neal, having heard the conversation. "Hey, boss," she greeted Peter. "Y'know, you don't look so good. Are you sure you don't need to rest? You've already wrapped up one case today."

"Are you all going to gang up on me?" Peter asked resignedly, slumping down in his desk chair.

"Yep," Diana said. "It's dinner time anyway, you should head home."

"Fine," Peter said reluctantly. And Neal felt a little hurt- not that he'd ever admit it- that Peter would take Diana's advice, but not Neal's, even when it had been the same. Peter stood back up from his desk and picked up his coat. "C'mon, Caffrey, I'll drop you off."

"Alright," Neal said, flashing a grin. He nodded gratefully to Diana, because it was good that Peter was going home, regardless of who'd accomplished it. Jones waved good night to the pair as they passed, and they made their way down to the Taurus. Peter's phone went off and he winced at the shrill noise. Reading the text quickly, Peter looked back up at Neal.

"Early morning meeting about that theft ring is cancelled tomorrow, so we don't have to go in."

"That's good," Neal said with an even nod. _Especially for you_.

"Listen, Neal..." Peter started awkwardly as they got into the car. "I'm sorry I was so short with you earlier."

"It's okay," Neal said with an easy grin. And it was. Mostly. "Don't worry about it." Peter nodded, looking tired still, and started the car. They drove in relative silence until they pulled up in front of the fence at June's house.

"Thanks for the ride," Neal said with a smile. Peter nodded.

"No problem. See you Monday."

"Okay. Feel better." Neal let out a breath as Peter drove away and started into June's house.

xxxxx

"Hi, Peter," Elizabeth said, looking surprised as Peter walked into their home. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his pale face and slightly pained movements. "What's wrong?" She asked concernedly, standing from the couch and taking his arm.

"Nothing," he said, weariness in his voice betraying the lie. Elizabeth shook her head.

"Come sit down and I'll finish the soup." She helped him remove his jacket and he sat down at the table slowly. Elizabeth went into the kitchen and moved the soup pot to the table with potholders. She grabbed some orange juice and the fresh bread and then sat down with him.

"So what's wrong?" Elizabeth repeated, more firmly.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "I feel sort of nauseated and really tired, and my head hurts." He looked reluctant to disclose this, for fear of sounding like he was complaining to her. He tried never to do that. "And I've been coughing a lot."

"It sounds like what Lisa has," Elizabeth said. She brushed her fingertips over his forehead and sighed. "I bet you caught it from her when she was over last weekend. You have a fever."

"Is she over it now?" Peter asked.

"No. She's still sort of sick. It's just a virus, she says rest helps." Elizabeth poured him a glass of orange juice with a meaningful expression. "You're not going anywhere this weekend."

"But you have that party tomorrow," Peter protested. "I wanted to be able to go with-" his words were cut off as he started to cough again, turning away from the table. Elizabeth laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she said soothingly, trying not to be disappointed. It wasn't Peter's fault, after all. "There will be other parties."

"No, El, you should still go," Peter said, getting control of his breathing again. "You could take one of your friends. What about Liliana or Yvonne?"

"One of their mutual friends is getting married tomorrow," she said. "It's really okay, Peter. I can't think of anyone else who would want to go to such a fancy party with me, anyway."

There was a moment of silence, then slow smiles spread across both of their faces.

"I'll get the phone."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: *sheepish laugh* Hi. I'm way sorry that took so long. I have really lost my mind this week. Homework=not a party. I hope you're all doing well, and that you enjoy this chapter! :)_

"You look great, Elizabeth," Neal assured her as he met her outside her front door in the cool, early evening air. She had been adjusting her necklace with uncharacteristic nervousness and stopped, giving Neal a smile. He grinned back then looked up at the house with concern.

"Peter's asleep," Elizabeth told him, guessing what he was thinking. "He still has a fever, but it's not as high as it was last night."

Neal nodded, slightly sheepish as being read so easily. "What about the cough?"

"It's still there," Elizabeth said with an edge of worry to her voice. "I think he'll be okay, but if he's still coughing when we get home I think I'll take him into the doctor."

"Hopefully you'll have better luck with that than I did," Neal said with a slightly joking smile. Elizabeth smiled and unlocked her shiny blue Volkswagen Bug. He shot her a look.

"Are you tired?" He asked her, noting her slightly sluggish movements.

"Oh, no," she said with an almost-easy smile. He raised one eyebrow and removed the keys gently from her hand.

"You forget, I'm an expert at detecting lies," he said with a faint smirk. "I can drive, you rest."

"Are you allowed to drive?" Elizabeth asked, not offering much protest as she sank into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Neal guessed that Peter had been up most of the night, or at least had kept her up.

"We'll go with_ 'sometimes_.' " Neal smiled slightly as he started the car and pulled it into the street.

"I can live with that," Elizabeth consented amusedly. "Thanks for coming with me."

"It's my pleasure," Neal said sincerely. Elizabeth cast him a grateful look before leaning her head back and closing her eyes once again. Neal let the quiet, peaceful feeling of the moment wash over him; it was currently only marred by worry for Peter and, of course, the ever-present mystery of the music box.

Neal appreciated the small mounted GPS on the dashboard, as he had no idea where they were going from the address. When they pulled up, however, he recognized it as a new art museum he'd heard about. He hadn't visited, since he didn't have a lot of free time lately, but it appeared to be nice. Another plus was that it was conveniently inside his radius. A fancy _Grand Opening _sign hung above the door.

"We're here," he said, nudging Elizabeth gently. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open and she smiled at him, shaking off the tiredness in her eyes.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said, chagrined.

"You were tired," Neal replied with an easy shrug. "That's why I drove."

"I appreciate it." They got out of the car, El fixing her hair from leaning on it, Neal straightening his fedora and deep red tie and brushing off his dark gray suit. He linked arms with Elizabeth as she smoothed a wrinkle out of her silky red dress.

"Ready?" He asked with a hint of warm teasing in his voice.

"Yes," she replied in the same tone. "Are you sure you don't need to fix your tie again?"

"My tie is fine," he protested, smoothing it dramatically for good measure. They both evened out their expressions and stepped to the man at the front. Elizabeth presented her invitation, which had been extended by a grateful client of Burke Premiere Events.

"Thank you," the sharply-dressed man said with a smile. "Enjoy the party."

Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you, we will." They continued into the clearly high-end building, and eyebrows rose as the interior was revealed. It was all smooth wooden floors and white drapes and soft lighting.

"Welcome to the Fagnani Art Museum," a red-headed man said in a friendly tone. "I'm Eric, my mother is our founder and curator."

"It's wonderful to meet you," Elizabeth said, shaking his hand. Neal smiled, also shaking it.

"Likewise," Eric said sincerely, smiling. "Feel free to look at any of our exhibits while you're here." The young man gave a slightly nervous nod before going off to greet someone else. Neal shook his head slightly.

"Poor boy, this has to be stressful for him," Elizabeth said sympathetically.

"He does look sort of stressed," Neal said, watching Eric shaking hands with an elderly couple and speak for a moment. "He's handling it pretty well, though."

"My Eric?" A slightly nasal voice came from behind them. They turned slowly to see a woman with similar red hair standing and looking at them with a quirked eyebrow. "Oh, no, he doesn't handle these situations well at all."

"Really? He seems alright, actually," Neal said.

"No, no, he's a complete novice," the woman Neal presumed to be Eric's mother insisted.

"If you say so," Elizabeth said, sensing that simply agreeing would be the best path here. The woman smiled and extended a manicured hand.

"Jill Fagnani," she said with an air of projected importance. "You must be Elizabeth. My sister spoke so highly of you. And is this your husband?" Neal shot Elizabeth a glance.

"I-"

The explanation was interrupted as Jill was summoned away by a middle-aged woman. Elizabeth shook her head slightly and they turned away.

"How a nice boy like Eric could come from a mother like her, I couldn't guess," she said.

"Aren't we judging a book by its cover?" Neal inquired, only half-seriously.

"In this case, I believe the cover to be an accurate representation," Elizabeth stated, rolling her eyes lightly.

"We'll see," Neal said. "But I think you're right." He lifted two glasses of champagne from a tray and offered one to her.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking one small sip. "So, if anyone asks again, you're-"

"Just a friend that came to keep you company," Neal said with a charming grin.

"Yes," Elizabeth said gratefully. "A very good friend." Neal's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment as he nodded.

"Right," he said, gaze snapping back up as he met hers with a smile. They continued to stroll through the crowd and Neal touched the brim of his fedora as they passed a group of women. Elizabeth continued another step to engage in a conversation with a couple she apparently knew, and Neal hung back. Whispers from the women behind him reached his ears.

"Isn't she that caterer?" One of them hissed.

"I think so. That man with her looks awfully rich."

"I think that's her husband."

This statement was met with a derisive snort. "I should say not. No, more likely he's some wealthy businessman that she's latched onto to get to his money. She looks the type to me." Neal's eyes narrowed slightly, unappreciative of the affront to Elizabeth.

"Either that or one of them is paying the other to be here," another put in. Just as Neal was about to turn around, Elizabeth finished talking to the couple and came back to join Neal.

"Sorry about that," she said with a smile. "We needed to catch up a bit." He nodded.

"Don't worry about it," he said. He noticed that she hadn't touched her champagne. "Would you like me to take that?" He asked.

"Oh. Sure," she said apologetically. "I'm not really in the mood." He nodded understandingly and took hers. He wasn't _really_ _in the mood_, as she'd put it, either, and replaced both of them on an empty tray to be taken away. They began to move away from the crowd.

"Miss Burke," one of the not-so-friendly women said, touching her elbow with a very fake smile. "We simply must be introduced."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, looking slightly confused but nodding kindly. "And it's Mrs. Burke, actually."

"Oh, is this your husband?" A clearly pregnant woman asked innocently. Neal recognized her as the owner of the derisive snort.

"This is-"

"Neal Burke," Neal interrupted. It felt odd to say, but it was for the best. Attempting to explain the "friend" concept wouldn't work with these women. Elizabeth looked up at him, puzzled. He shot her a look. _Just go with it_. She nodded minutely. "It's a pleasure to be here."

"Ahh..." The woman seemed at a loss. Another of the women came from behind her and took over.

"Simply wonderful make your acquaintances," the blonde said in a similar fake-friendly tone. "I'm Tiffany Quinn."

"Lea Talbot," the pregnant woman said, having regained her speech. The others in the group were introduced as Winona Liszt, a tall, slim brunette; May Simmons, another redhead with similar mannerisms to Jill; Colette Maundre, a quiet, raven-haired woman; and Rachelle Whitt, a petite blonde who seemed to rather enjoy the champagne.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Elizabeth said, her typical warmth in her voice. They agreed with an insincerity that Neal was sure Elizabeth caught; it didn't influence her attitude toward them, and Neal respected her all the more for it.

They made casual conversation until the _Burkes_ were finally able to finish politely and duck out. With a mutual feeling of relief, they walked up some airy stairs to see some of the art.

"That was unpleasant," Elizabeth commented as they stood in front of a beautifully done ocean scene.

"To say the least," Neal agreed. "You handled it very well."

"Practice with customers," Elizabeth said ruefully. "No matter how much they irritate you, be friendly toward them or they'll take their business elsewhere."

"Ah," Neal said. "Well, you're a very good actress, then."

"Thank you?" Elizabeth replied, not sounding entirely sure if she'd been complimented. Neal grinned at her and they continued to examine the art. It was much quieter upstairs, and the time until they could reasonably leave passed quickly. Neal drove again on the way home, as Elizabeth seemed even more tired than before, and helped her out of her car in the now-dark night.

"How will you get home?" She asked concernedly.

"I'll take a cab, don't worry," he said with a smile, taking her up to the door. "Thanks for having me come with you, Elizabeth, it was very nice."

"Thank _you_ for coming," she replied. She unlocked her door and stepped inside. "I'll call and let you know how Peter's doing tomorrow."

"Thank you," Neal said. "Good night."

"Night."

Neal turned back to the New York street and hailed a cab, yawning several times on the ride home. He entered June's silent mansion and changed into his pajamas, dropping into bed and quickly falling asleep.

xxxxx

The next morning, Neal was awakened by a very unexpected sound; his cell phone was ringing. His first, slightly groggy thought was that it was Elizabeth calling to tell him that Peter had gotten drastically worse. Worry clenched in his stomach as he picked up the phone.

_Clinton Jones,_ the screen read. Well, then, that couldn't be anything too bad. Clearing his throat, he answered it.

"Morning, Jones," he greeted.

_ "Neal." _The man sounded slightly grim. Neal frowned. So much for nothing bad.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, voice still even.

_ "Yes," Jones said hesitantly. "The museum you were at last night... it was- well, it was robbed."  
_

_Robbed? Why would they- oh, they think I did it. _That was how it always went, after all. An ex-con was in a building where a crime was committed, obviously he was the culprit.

_ "I see," Neal said noncommittally._

_ "We need you to come in,"_ Jones said apologetically. Neal nodded to himself.

"Alright," he said, feeling concerned and slightly more awake. Hopefully he could talk his way out of this. "I'll be there soon."

_ "Sorry about this," Jones said, "see you in a few." The man hung up and Neal set down his phone with a sigh, standing and heading for a quick shower. Not exactly how I wanted to start my Sunday morning._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here tis be the third chapter. Man, this week has been crazy. Only sixty-something days to White Collar! Tomorrow is Psych Day, so yay if you're a psych fan! Enjoy the chapter. Thanks for all your reviews! :)_

Elizabeth Burke was awoken by her cell ringing, answering it and trying to keep drowsiness from her voice.

"This is Elizabeth Burke," she said.

_ "Mrs. Burke, it's Agent Jones."_

"Oh, Agent Jones, yes. Good morning, can I help you?" Elizabeth felt slightly confused as to why they'd call her and not Peter; perhaps they assumed that he would be unable to answer the phone and wanted her to deliver a message. If that was the case, they'd been correct, at least.

_"Yes, actually," _Jones said._ "You were at a museum with Neal last night?"_

"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed, unsure where he was going with this line of questioning. "Why?"

_ "Sometime during the party you attended, the museum was robbed." _Jones's tone was hesitant but matter-of-fact. _"I'm sorry, but we need you to come into the bureau."_

"Oh. Okay, Clinton," Elizabeth said, her mind fogged by both confusion and the mist that always accompanied those who were still half-asleep. "I'll come in."

She looked over at her husband after she hung up the phone. He had finally been able to sleep after taking some decongestant. The virus seemed to share some symptoms of a cold, and some of the flu. Lisa, who Elizabeth had called yesterday for further advice, was just barely starting to recover. So unfortunately that meant Elizabeth could expect Peter to be ill for around another week if things went the same way.

_I shouldn't wake him,_ she decided. Smoothing the covers on her side of the bed, and making sure that Peter's were drawn over him fully, she penned a small note and quickly got ready to leave.

She walked into the White Collar Crime Division a short while later and was briefly surprised to see Neal sitting up in the conference room with Agent Jones. She then didn't know _why_ she had been surprised, as Neal would obviously be suspected of any crime committed near him. As if that was fair.

Letting out one breath, she smiled to the few agents who were unlucky enough to have to work on a Sunday morning and ascended the stairs to the conference room.

Neal's head turned when she opened the door, and puzzlement clouded his eyes. His confusion had a better root than hers, as she still didn't really know herself why _she _had been asked to come in. Perhaps they wanted her as a witness. If that was the case, she certainly would be informing them exactly what had happened; Neal had been at her side the entire night, and he'd never laid a finger on any of the paintings.

"Good morning," Jones greeted her tiredly. "Please, have a seat Mrs. Burke." Elizabeth nodded and sat down next to Neal. _What's going on? _She asked him silently. He shrugged slightly.

"Since it's Sunday, and almost no one is here," Jones began. "We won't be having a full conference meeting like we normally would. So it'll just be us."

"Okay," Neal said, drawing out the word slightly. He shifted in his seat and Elizabeth felt sympathy for him. "Jones, what exactly am I being accused of?"

"Accused of?" Jones looked lost for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes. He laughed in a slightly awkward, apologetic way. "I guess I wasn't very specific on the phone; sorry, mornings. But you're not being accused of anything."

Elizabeth glanced up at Neal and saw relief in his pale blue eyes. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel relieved as well. Neal nodded. "Oh." Questioning replaced the relief. "Why are we here, then?"

"Because earlier this morning we were doing some digging and we believe it to be connected to the theft ring we were investigating," Jones said. _No wonder he looks tired. He's been here a while. _"And we think we've finally found some possible suspects."

"Really?" Neal asked, his curiosity obviously piqued. "Who?"

Jones laid down some files and set a photograph on top of them. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed slightly as she saw a picture of them speaking to the group of unpleasant women.

"These are your suspects?" She asked.

"Not all of them," Jones said. "It would only have to be one. These six are close friends and are either in high profile occupations in museums, or very close to someone who is. It would be easy for one of them to leak information to the thieves for a profit, and they've been to parties at a lot of museums before they've been robbed."

"I see," Neal said. "What does this have to do with us, though?"

"As you can see, we have tape of you two talking to them,_ Mr. Burke_," Jones said, flashing Neal a friendly grin. Neal smiled sheepishly and Elizabeth grinned. "And it seemed like you were at least... sort of getting along with them."

"That's overstating it a bit," Elizabeth murmured.

"Not by too much," Jones said. "They're reputedly very reluctant to even speak to others outside their 'circle' in most cases."

"I'm still not seeing where you're going with this, Clinton," Elizabeth said slowly, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"Again, mornings," Jones sighed. "Not my best time, I'm sorry. I'll get right to the point." The man let out a breath. "We need you two to go undercover for the bureau."

"What?" Elizabeth asked. She frowned as she considered this. "Doesn't going undercover usually constitute some assumed identity? They know me as myself."

"Well, just because they know you by your real name, doesn't mean that you're you. We're pretty good at creating records on short notice."

"I can attest to that," Neal said with a grin.

"Okay, so who would _I_ be, then?" Elizabeth asked Jones curiously.

"You would be Elizabeth Burke, caterer and wife of Neal Burke, successful business man."

xxxxx

Neal stiffened slightly and felt Elizabeth's eyes on him. His first thought was, _Oh, Peter is going to kill me. _His second thought was that he really didn't want to spend an extended amount of time around the unpleasant group of women. The first thought seemed more important.

"Oh," Elizabeth said. Neal locked eyes with her for a moment and she nodded slightly, though Neal's gaze was hesitant. "I'll do it." Something in her voice added.

Neal hesitated for a moment, leaning forward to Jones. "What are the chances she'll get hurt?" He asked softly. From the way Elizabeth's breathing quieted, he knew she'd heard anyways.

"Slim to none," Jones replied in the same tone. "You'll be with housewives, so I'd go with closer to none."

Neal nodded slowly. He wanted to keep Elizabeth safe above all else. That was the only option here, since her mind was made up about going on the assignment. "I'll do it," he said, though he knew that _his_ say in the matter was really quite minimal.

"I thought you'd both agree," Jones said with a slightly apologetic nod. He handed them each a file. "Read over these and make sure you're ready. Take a cab together to this address at noon tomorrow."

"Alright," Elizabeth said, glancing at the first page. "Thanks, Clinton." She stood up, looking a little wobbly from fatigue. Neal stood as well and Jones nodded again.

"I guess it's back to work for me," he said, a little wearily. "Good luck you two."

"Thanks Jones," Neal said. He gave the man a sympathetic look and opened the door for both of them. Elizabeth went out first and Neal followed her.

"Do you want a ride home?" She asked him as they boarded the elevator.

"If you don't mind," he replied, nodding. The elevator slowed and stopped, sending Elizabeth a little off-balance. Neal set a hand on her arm to steady her and they stepped out.

"This is going to be interesting," Elizabeth commented as they got into her car.

Neal nodded. "Yeah, that's putting it lightly." He looked at her slightly stressed expression and tired, tense posture. "Do you want me to come help you talk to Peter?" He asked concernedly.

"No, no," Elizabeth said, pulling into the street. "Thanks for the offer, Neal, but I think that might just make it worse. As it is explaining it is going to be... difficult."

"Yeah." Neal knew that sometimes Peter wasn't the easiest to get on the same page as. He picked up the file and flipped through the first few pages.

Neither of them spoke much, as both were tired and consumed with their own thoughts. Before Neal could read more than a couple of pages, they were in front of June's house.

"Thanks," Neal said gratefully. "Good luck."

"I'll need it," she said. "See you in a few hours."

Neal stepped into the still-quiet mansion and up the staircase. Pulling a bagel and some juice out of his fridge, he ate while slowly reading the file. It was all pretty standard stuff, background on the women and so forth; there were a few pages devoted to his and Elizabeth's "history." He hoped that Peter wouldn't give Elizabeth too hard of a time about it all. It wasn't her fault, after all. His hand hovered over the phone tentatively.

xxxxx

Elizabeth let out a breath when Neal got of the car, letting the stress wash over her and then recede slightly. Whatever happened, it would be okay. She parked in front of their house and went inside. For a moment, she debated just going back to bed. But her mind was already very much awake, so that probably wouldn't work. With a deciding nod, she went into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she was scrambling some eggs and still thinking, flipping a pancake at the same time. She heard the shower turn on upstairs and knew Peter would be down quickly. Sighing distractedly, she pulled out a carton of strawberries and started slicing them. She didn't really pay attention to what she was doing, her mind elsewhere, until a sharply slicing pain brought it back.

She looked down, wincing as she saw the long, thin cut on her finger. Scraping the ruined portion of the strawberries into the trash and quickly dumped the rest into a bowl. Before moving the eggs and a last pancake onto the plates, she put cleaned the cut and put a bandage on it.

_Be more careful_, she reminded herself. But it was tough to focus. It hadn't been all that long since she had returned from San Fransisco, and she treasured her time with Peter enough to really dread fighting with him. Hopefully he would take this well. Everything was set up at the kitchen table when Peter came down, hair damp. He was still in pajamas, but they appeared to be new, clean ones.

"Morning," he said in a painfully hoarse voice. Elizabeth smiled slightly, concern creeping in.

"Good morning," she replied. Stepped forward and took a step to him, brushing her fingers against his forehead. "You still have a little bit of a fever still. How do you feel?"

"O-" Peter winced and halted his speech. Elizabeth winced with him; Lisa had told her that she'd had a sore throat the first several days. Instead of speaking, Peter just shrugged noncommittally. Elizabeth pulled out his chair for him and pressed a kiss against his hair, sitting down in the seat next to him. They each retrieved some food, though Peter picked up notably less. Elizabeth wondered if he felt nauseated.

There were a few moments of silence in which Elizabeth tried to think of how to best broach the subject that was on her mind; not now, of course, but later. She needed more time. Then Peter cleared his throat with another grimace.

"Why did... you go into the bureau?" He asked softly. Elizabeth restrained a cringe; so much for time.

"Jones called me," she responded after a brief pause. Peter tilted his head with an unspoken why?

"The museum I was at with Neal last night was... robbed. So they called us both in."

Alarm flashed in Peter's face and she shook her head rapidly, realizing what he was thinking. "No, they don't think he did it," she assured him. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes showed curiosity. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then launched into the explanation. Peter listened silently with a grim expression, taking the file when she showed it to him and began to read as she finished.

"You didn't think to ask me before you said yes?" He asked, a faint edge to his hoarse voice.

Elizabeth's eyes grew slightly cold. Peter shook his head, backtracking quickly. "I didn't-" he coughed. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't. I just... don't want you to get hurt."

Instantly Elizabeth's gaze softened, chagrined. "I know," she said quietly. "I'll be safe, though. Jones said so."_  
_

Peter let out a sigh, started to speak, and then just nodded. Elizabeth was actually sort of grateful that it was difficult for him to say a lot; then she chided herself for feeling that. But she _was_ grateful that the argument wasn't as big as she'd feared it becoming. In quiet voices they discussed a few more details of it and continued to read the file as they ate breakfast.

Just as Elizabeth stood to begin clearing the table, the phone rang. She picked it up.

"Hello?"

_"How'd it go?" _It was Neal's voice on the other end.

Elizabeth cast Peter a glance. "Pretty well, actually."

_"I'm glad to hear that." _Neal did sound glad. Peter raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"It's Neal," Elizabeth whispered. Peter gave a nod. _Have him come over,_ his gestures said. Elizabeth nodded slowly.

"Hey, uhm, Neal," Elizabeth began.

_"Yeah?"_

"D'you want to come over, maybe?" She asked hesitantly.

_ "Okay,"_ Neal agreed readily. _"Now?"_

"Yeah, now would be good."

_ "Alright. See you in a few."_

"Bye, Neal," Elizabeth said with a slightly relieved smile. She hung up the phone and sat back down next to Peter.

"He's coming," she informed him. Then, with a slightly pleading expression, she touched his shoulder. "Please don't give him too hard of a time, Peter."

"Hm." Peter shrugged noncommittally. Elizabeth let out a breath and started picking up the dishes.

"Do you want some more water?" She asked him gently as she finished cleaning the table. With a tired shake to his head, Peter stood and started to move toward a more comfortable seat in the front room. Elizabeth took his arm and helped him over, smiling faintly at the soft sigh when he sat down.

It wasn't very many more minutes until a knock came at the door. Elizabeth opened it and smiled at the young man on their porch. "Hey, Neal," she said, a tad nervously. "Come in."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Ahhhh. I feel so bad that this took so long to get up. I don't even really have a good excuse, since I already have most of it written... But I am really sorry. I'll try to be better! Thanks for all your reviews last chapter, I'm going to try to reply to them. Enjoy this one! I'm not sure how IC Peter is, I tried. I'd love feedback on him._

Neal smiled back at El, a little tiredly. "Hi," he said. He stepped inside the doorway and closed it behind him. They stepped around the corner and Neal's eyes immediately locked with Peter's. The conman halted, cowed by the slightly foreign emotions there. He suddenly felt like a boy who'd been caught cheating on a test by a particularly strict teacher.

Neal smiled for appearances' sake. "Morning, Peter. How're you feeling?"

"Fine," Peter said. Neal winced mentally at the Agent's voice; it sounded like his throat hurt or something unpleasant like that. Neal _hated_ being sick. Peter stood slowly and rested a hand on El's arm with a slight smile for her, then turned back to Neal. "Will you come help me with dishes?" He requested in a tone that left no room for argument

El looked concerned. "Oh, Peter, you don-"

"It's fine, Elizabeth," Neal said charmingly. "I don't mind." Elizabeth nodded slowly and Neal slowly followed Peter into the kitchen. The agent turned on the sink and started filling it up with hot water. There was a moment of silence, the kitchen echoing slightly with the running water, then Peter turned to Neal. His gaze was hard and questioning and serious.

"Why did you agree to do this?" The man asked flatly.

"Why did I _agree_?" Neal repeated with a faint air of incredulity, still in an even tone. "I have to, and you know that."

The brown eyes narrowed. "You know what I meant. Why did you agree to do this with Elizabeth?"

"Because... she wanted to," Neal said. "And because she knows we need her for this. You read the file, Peter, you know we can't do it without her." His gaze found Peter's for a moment, entreating the agent to understand.

"Do you know how much danger you're be putting her in?" Peter asked frostily, ignoring the silent plea.

Neal let out a short, tight breath. No, Peter wasn't feeling well, as evidenced by the hoarse voice and tired eyes, and this whole _thing_ likely bothering him very much; but regardless of that, Neal still didn't enjoy being treated this way. Every doubt Peter expressed, Neal had already considered and beat himself up over. He didn't need to repeat that process.

"That was the first thing that went through my mind, actually," the conman said with a heavy shrug. "Jones says that there's little to no risk."

"There's always the margin for error," Peter said. The agent became even more serious, if that was possible. "If you let her get hurt, it's the end for us. Permanently. Understand, Caffrey?" There was a slight menace behind the words that Neal had witnessed before, but never had it been directed toward him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the statement hung in the air.

Neal's hands were tight at his sides, eyes downcast. "I understand, _Agent Burke,_" he said forcedly, unable to keep a hint of chill and hurt from his voice this time. He turned to leave the kitchen and took one moment to shake out his tense shoulders before exiting through the glass door.

"Neal?" Elizabeth stood a few feet away, eyebrows lifted in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Neal said with a fairly convincing smile. She gently touched his shoulder and he smiled again. "I have to go, but I'll see you later."

"A-alright," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes going from Neal to the slightly swinging kitchen door that concealed Peter. "Bye, Neal."

"Goodbye, Elizabeth." Neal walked out of the house, letting the door close behind him roughly.

xxxxx

Mozzie was sitting on Neal's couch, drinking a small glass of wine and poring over a file that wasn't _quite_ legally acquired.

The door to the loft opened and closed rather hard and Mozzie tapped a phone on the table next to him, not looking up. "You left your phone here, Neal, I couldn't get ahold of you."

"Sorry." The word came out in a quiet, flat tone. There was the sound of a chair scraping back and then forward.

Mozzie looked up, pushing his glasses back into place and blinking concernedly. Neal was sitting at the table with his head in his arms, fedora next to him on its side.

Mozzie got up and stood next to the young man. Neal's shoulders tensed defensively. "What happened?" Mozzie asked. "I haven't heard from you since you told me you were going with Elizabeth to the party." For a brief moment, Mozzie pondered his own statement. Although it no longer felt strange, he would've never thought he would know the wife of an FBI agent on a first-name basis. Or the FBI agent himself, for that matter.

Neal sighed and Mozzie's attention was directed back to him. "It's hard to explain," he said, the words slightly muffled by his arms. He sounded tired and there was a hint of upset peeking through behind it. Which meant there was a lot more really there; normally Neal kept all hints of his true feelings out his voice. Mozzie'd learned that.

"Try me," Mozzie said, pulling up a chair next to Neal and resting one hand on the table. It took a few more moments of silence before Neal finally lifted his head and began to explain. Mozzie listened quietly and nodded slowly once Neal repeated how Elizabeth had called him over.

"Peter... Peter disagreed with all this. And I came back here." Neal's slightly shaky voice revealed how much this was bothering him.

"When you say _disagreed,_" Mozzie said slowly, leaving the end of the sentence open for Neal to complete it. Neal just shook his head slightly, not speaking. Mozzie let out a breath.

"I'm sorry, man," he said. He hesitated for a moment, hand hovering in the air, then gently laid it on Neal's shoulder; a sentimental gesture, he decided, but a necessary one. The conman flinched slightly, then let it rest there.

"Thanks, Moz," Neal said softly. He stood up and smoothed down his suit, putting a mask back on. "I think I'm going to go in and see if Jones needs any help with paperwork. He looked pretty swamped."

Mozzie raised an eyebrow. "Neal Caffrey voluntarily going to do paperwork on a Sunday? In the FBI offices, no less? I never thought I'd see this day."

Neal shrugged with a fairly convincing smile that Mozzie knew was fake. "Just doing my civil duty."

Mozzie snorted loudly. "Right. Well, good luck. I'll see you later, _if_ you make it."

"Alright." Neal stepped over to the door. "Bye, Moz." He gave Mozzie a flashy grin before disappearing down the staircase. Moz hummed tunelessly under his breath, rather troubled.

A thought popped into his mind and he quashed it, but it returned quickly.

_No,_ he told himself. But somehow he found himself picking up his baseball cap and moving down toward the front door. _This is a bad idea,_ he persisted, but that one pesky part of his mind wouldn't listen. Unfortunately, that part of his mind seemed to currently control both his feet and his wallet. Before he knew it, he was in a cab and then back out again. Still with that almost involuntary feeling, he walked up the front steps and stood on the porch.

For a moment, he debated internally about simply leaving. But his hand managed to collide with the doorbell and he resisted the urge to jump at the chime. After a moment Elizabeth Burke answered the door, looking a little bit confused, her eyes holding lingering upset that was not directed at him.

"Hi, Mozzie?" Her voice tilted up as a question.

"Elizabeth." He inclined his head slightly with a faint smile.

The brunette smiled back. "How are you?"

"How is one ever?" Mozzie replied rhetorically. He resisted the urge to shake his head. That didn't even make sense to _him_. He was losing it.

With a slightly awkward cough, he blinked. "How are you? Neal told me about the assignment, I wondered how you were doing."

"That's sweet of you," she said. "I'm fine, really." Mozzie mentally rolled his eyes. She wasn't _fine, really_. He'd dealt with more experienced liars than her. With a sudden jolt, El suddenly looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry, Moz, won't you come in?" She asked apologetically.

"...sure." Mozzie stepped over the threshold with only slight hesitance. El closed the front door and turned back to him.

"So, uhm..." Elizabeth let out a breath. "What else did Neal tell you? He left here looking... not himself, but Peter wouldn't say what happened."

"He wouldn't say anything other than that _Peter disagreed with this_." Mozzie shrugged stiffly. "But I got the feeling he was upset."

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I need to apologize to Neal, too." Her eyes shone slightly and she looked up at the ceiling, blinking. "Peter doesn't normally do that sort of thing. Argue like that, I mean. But... he's under a lot of stress, I guess, and-" her voice broke off and Mozzie patted her arm slightly. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Very sentimental.

"It isn't your fault," he said matter-of-factly. "And I don't think Neal's really mad at the Suit. Just..." Mozzie shrugged. "Hurt."

"Yeah," Elizabeth said, recovering her composure. She gave Mozzie a grateful smile. "Thanks, Mozzie. You're a good friend."

Mozzie paused at the words, foreign for the most part except on some occasions with Neal. They didn't really need to say it anymore for the other to know. But Mozzie nodded, shrugging again. "You're welcome, Mrs. Suit," he said with the barest hint of teasing in his voice. She nodded.

The sound of footfalls in the kitchen drew their attention there and Peter came out. He stopped, looking between El and Mozzie. Mozzie's gaze was flat as he met the brown eyes.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Suit?" He requested rather civilly.

"Yes." Peter's answer was given in the same tone and they stepped into the kitchen. Elizabeth cast a glance after them, and Mozzie caught a hint of worry and slight exasperation in her eyes.

"What brings you here?" Peter asked.

"You know what." Mozzie crossed his arms. "Neal."

"What about him?"

Something inside Mozzie snapped. "Don't play games with me, Suit. You said something to him, I'm not sure what, but it did something to him." His voice was quiet but accusing. "What was it?"

Peter looked down at the bald man and Mozzie didn't blink. Peter hesitated, then started to speak, but Mozzie interrupted him.

"You know, it doesn't matter what you said. Whatever it was, you had no right. You owe him an apology. A big one. He's really trying to do the right thing here- for you, I might add- and you're threatening him for it." The threatening part was really a guess, but Peter's slight flinch at the word told Mozzie he'd been correct. His gaze darkened.

"Think about that, Suit." Mozzie turned around and left the kitchen.

"If you want to come over to June's later, El, I'm sure she'd be glad to have you," Mozzie said. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said slowly, frowning in concern as she looked at the still-swinging kitchen door.

"I should get going," Moz said. "But it was nice to see you."

"Nice seeing you, too," she replied. And then he was gone, back out into the street. In the empty front room, Elizabeth heaved a sigh and turned to go talk to her husband.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This chapter is rather short, but I will promise another update promptly on Tuesday. I have all Thanksgiving break to work on finishing the end of this up so I can start posting it more quickly. I appreciate all of you sticking around! Thanks for all your feedback on last chapter. I hope you can get all you're hoping for here, and some explanations, too. _

Elizabeth stood with her back to Peter, arms crossed as she tried to fight back the anger that had arisen when he'd told her what he'd said to Neal. She'd waited as he'd been on the phone with Jones, Hughes, and who knew who else, and then listened with growing upset as he'd spoken to her. She could tell he regretted the way he'd said things, but still thought that his way of thinking was the right one. Her hands clenched into fists and she unfolded her arms, turning back around.

"I don't believe this, Peter," Elizabeth said, her tone controlled and crisp. "First Neal gave up some of his limited free time to go with me to a museum, then he stood up for me, and agreed to go with me on this assignment and keep me safe. And how did you repay him?" Peter flinched slightly at her harsh question, but she plowed onward. "You pretty much made him feel like dirt and threatened the only thing he has; his freedom." She shook her head, exhaling.

"El, I-" Peter broke off his sentence and fell silent again, apparently unable to defend himself.

"I could tell he wasn't okay when he left," El told him. "Which means he was _really_ upset. I know you love me, and I know you're not thrilled about this. But don't let it jeopardize what you have going with Neal. If you alienate him like this, Peter..." She sighed. "He doesn't deserve that."

"He should have consulted with me before he agreed to do this," Peter asserted. "That's what he is. A _consultant._"

"You've made that perfectly clear to everyone," she said. She looked at him, continuing matter-of-factly, "he didn't have time to consult with anyone. The assignment was put on the table and I wasn't going to turn it down, and I'm pretty sure you know that he _couldn't_ turn it down."

"You're just making excuses for him, El," Peter said tiredly.

"I would be making them for you," she said cooly, "but your behavior was inexcusable."

She watched him as he fidgeted under her gaze, beginning to see the seriousness of his actions.

"I want you to call him and apologize," Elizabeth said.

"I can't," Peter protested. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his robe and he looked away. "I just... can't."

"Yes, you can," Elizabeth said. She knew it was hard for him to apologize, especially when he really didn't think he was in the wrong. But it had to be done. "Please, Peter."

"M-maybe later," he said appeasingly. "I know I screwed up, El." His voice grew quieter. "I just can't do it right now."

Elizabeth sighed, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired. One hand rubbed her left temple, where her several-day-old headache was still very much present. "Okay, Peter. That's fine."

Turning away and walking up the stairs, Elizabeth evened out her breathing and sat down on the bed she shared with Peter. Slowly, she picked up the glass of water from beside the bed and drank it gingerly. Her throat protested the motions, sending tendrils of pain through her. The virus that Lisa'd had was an easy one to contract, and Elizabeth had seen the first signs of it only a day or so after her sister had left. Things at work were too pressing, her husband too busy, for her to simply take sick days. The illness was pushed to the side and she continued to move through her days, sometimes feeling as if she was just going through the motions. She believed that the worst of it was behind her, and, thankfully, it hadn't been as bad as she'd feared it would be. Just enough to make her feel not herself.

She was left with several minutes of silence, and she pressed the cool glass to the side of her head to try and alleviate the pain there. It made some difference, but not enough to make her thoughts flow easily. Jumping around erratically, her mind tried to picture what this would be like. Just her and Neal, trying to solve this seemingly unsolvable crime. The image shifted to show Peter, alone and sick at home, worry evident in his expression.

Slow footsteps creaked up the stairs as Peter ascended them. Elizabeth quickly evened out her expression and gave him a small smile as he entered. He sat down next to her, heaving a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She took his hand, pressing it gently to her lips. "I know," she said. "But I'm not the only one you need to apologize to."

Peter nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze. "I'll call him," he said. "Eventually."

Elizabeth bit her lip. That was the best she thought she'd be able to get out of him. Hopefully _eventually_ wouldn't come too late.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Technically, it's Tuesday for ten more minutes. :P _

_Thank you all so, so much for your great feedback on Monsieur Peter. I hope he's better in this chapter! :) _

_Edit: Thanks for your help, buddies. :) Just changed a few small things as pointed out to me. Glad you guys liked it!_

The next morning dawned cloudy and gray. Elizabeth Burke woke slowly at a rather early hour, rolling over in bed and lying silently for a moment, thinking as she watched her husband's chest rise and let out a short, silent sigh. It was going to be hard to leave. With any luck, though, the culprits would be discovered and caught quickly, and they'd be able to keep any more people from being hurt.

She quietly watched for nearly half an hour, then finally spoke. "Peter." Peter's finger twitched, but he remained asleep.

"Peter," El repeated, a little more loudly.

"Mmph." Peter's eyes fluttered open and he looked at her, confused.

"I only have about two hours before I have to go," she said softly. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"'kay," Peter said, pushing himself up. Elizabeth copied his motions, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead for a moment.

"It feels like your fever's gone down a bit. Do you feel any better?" She asked concernedly.

Peter lifted one hand, tilting it from side to side. Elizabeth smiled slightly. "That's better than nothing, I guess," she said. Peter nodded.

"Uh-huh," he agreed hoarsely. Elizabeth looked down at the blanket, fiddling with a section of it between her fingers.

"Listen, Peter... I really want you to call Neal. Today." She paused, looking up at him earnestly. "You're a wonderful man, Peter. I know you feel bad about what happened. Make it right."

Peter exhaled, nodding thoughtfully. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at the clock, then back at Elizabeth. "Okay," he consented.

Relief flooded through El as she smiled, handing him the phone gently. "Will you be okay talking that much?" She asked, concerned.

"Yeah." Peter offered a small smile and stood up with the phone, moving into the other room.

It took a lot of Elizabeth's willpower to stop herself from eavesdropping.

xxxxx

Neal took a small bite of his danish, chewing it thoughtfully as he stared into the middle distance. As it was often said, hindsight _was_ 20/20, and Neal could clearly see that yesterday had, in general, not been a good one. There had been overreactions on both sides, but Neal couldn't help but feel slightly more responsible. After all, he wasn't the one who was sick. His cell phone found its way into his hands as he debated calling.

_What if he's not awake? _A voice in his head asked. _What if his voice is completely gone now? Or if he just doesn't want to talk to you?_

_ Debates like these could last for a long time, so Neal was grateful when the phone rang to distract him from it.  
_

_ Flipping the phone open without looking, he swallowed a bite of danish. "Hello?" He answered.  
_

_ "Hi," Peter said, his voice grating out painfully.  
_

_ "You alright?" Neal asked lightly.  
_

_ "What do you... think?" Peter asked. Neal could picture his expression perfectly.  
_

_ "I doubt you are," Neal said apologetically. "But I had to check."  
_

_ "Thanks for that," Peter said. He was silent for a moment, Neal hearing him drink some water.  
_

_ "Listen, Peter-" Neal said slowly.  
_

_ "Let me first," Peter replied, tone insistent.  
_

"Okay," Neal agreed. "You go first."

"I just wanted... to say," Peter began, "that I'm sorry 'bout yesterday. Really."

Neal smiled, raising and lowering his shoulders and feeling a thousand times better.

"That's good enough for me," said Neal.

"Th-" Peter's words were cut off when he erupted into a fit of coughing. Finally recovering, he gasped, "I'll see you."

"Okay, Peter. Goodbye," Neal replied, concern at his friend's state of being evident, but slightly overshadowed by his lightness at the amends that had been made. The line cut off and a knock came at Neal's door. He couldn't stop himself from grinning as he walked over, opening to find none other than the rather short figure of Mozzie.

"What's got you so happy?" Mozzie asked, looking very puzzled.

"Oh, nothing," Neal said, still smiling.

xxxxx

When Elizabeth got out of the shower, Peter approached her to tell her that he'd called.

Elizabeth hugged him tightly. "Thank you for doing that, Peter," she said. He rubbed her back, and she could tell that it had made him feel a lot better too.

They spent the next while talking quietly, enjoying the moment before it was gone.

An hour or so later, El was hugging her husband again, making the black car parked in front of your house wait. "I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered.

Peter nodded, his eyes showing that he reciprocated her feelings. His voice was worse than it had been the day before, and she'd given him instructions to avoid speaking. She hugged him tighter as he kissed the top of her head gently.

"Thank you, Peter," she said, hating the departure more with every minute. "Call Lisa if you get worse, she'll have some tips after having it first."

Peter reluctantly released her from the hug as she put her luggage into the car the FBI had rented for them. Jones smiled at her from the drivers' seat.

"Ready to go?" He asked, nodding to Peter. Peter nodded back with an obviously forced smile. Elizabeth slid into the passengers' seat and closed the door.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," Elizabeth said with a slight shrug. She looked through the tinted glass at Peter. He stood on the porch in his pajamas and robe, waving goodbye with worry and regret written across his face. Elizabeth's eyes stung and she blinked back tears. As Jones drove away, she composed herself. _Get yourself together, this is important_. Her head was still aching and her throat was faintly sore, but that wasn't as important as what they were trying to do.

In what felt like a heartbeat, they'd pulled up to June's house and Jones smiled at her. "I've just got to wait out here to take off Neal's anklet."

"Thanks, Clinton," Elizabeth said with a small smile. "Take care of Peter for me, okay?"

"Will do."

The affable FBI agent waved to El as she went through the gates into June's stately home.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," June said. She smiled. Elizabeth nodded.

"Good morning, June," she murmured. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," the woman said kindly. "And yourself? Are you nervous?"

"A little," El admitted. She twisted the edge of her sleeve for a moment before glancing up the stairs.

"Feel free to go right up," June said. "Neal's in his loft."

"Thanks," Elizabeth said. June nodded and Elizabeth slowly ascended the stairs. She let out a breath before rapping gently on the pale wooden door.

After a moment it slowly opened to reveal a bald head and blinking eyes. "June, Neal's not ready yet."

"Hi, Mozzie," Elizabeth said. Mozzie looked up and his head went slightly to one side.

"Oh. Morning, Elizabeth," Mozzie said. There was a brief pause, then the man jumped slightly. "Oh. Right. Come in."

Elizabeth smiled slightly, stepping inside. "Thank you." She glanced around the neat apartment. "So, Neal's where?"

"Showering." Mozzie rolled his eyes slightly. "He can take the longest time. So vain."

Elizabeth laughed gratefully. "I see." She let out a breath. "How are you?"

"Fine," Mozzie said nonchalantly.

Elizabeth gave him a look. "You didn't seem fine the other day. You shouldn't try to hide it."

Mozzie quirked an eyebrow. "So said the pot to the kettle." He shook his head. "I'm really alright," he insisted. "But how are _you_? You have to be feeling pressure, Mrs. Suit."

"Yes... that's one way of putting it," Elizabeth said, shrugging faintly. She rested one hand on the back of a chair, leaning against it. "Listen, Moz, about Peter..."

Mozzie shook his head exasperatedly. "The Suit can make his own choices."

Elizabeth straightened and moved slightly closer to Mozzie, her eyes sincere. "He's a good man, Mozzie. You know that. He's made amends with Neal." Mozzie nodded slowly.

"Yes," he consented. "I know." There was silence for a moment, Mozzie fiddling with a chess piece.

"'Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other,' " Moz said softly. Elizabeth tilted her head slightly to one side.

"Abraham Lincoln," Neal said, exiting the bathroom and surveying them both with a smile. Mozzie nodded his approval.

"Very good," he said. Elizabeth mulled over the words for a moment in her mind and decided them to be the Mozzie equivalent of "good luck." She smiled at him and then looked at Neal. The consultant was wearing a sleek black suit, creamy shirt, and dark blue tie.

"Hello, Mrs. Burke," Neal said with a dazzling smile.

"Mr. Burke," Elizabeth said with slight teasing, taking his offered arm and scanning him briefly for hints of how he'd taken Peter's apology.

"Ah, young love," Mozzie said drily. Neal shook his head exasperatedly at Mozzie.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Long enough for you to have spent far too long in the bathroom," Mozzie said snarkily.

"It's ten," El supplied. Neal nodded.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," he said, shooting Mozzie a mock-reproving look. Mozzie shrugged and handed Neal the Bureau-issued phone. Neal slid it into his pocket.

"Hello, everyone," June said cheerfully, stepping the open door. "Your things have been moved to the car."

"Thank you." Neal nodded. "Okay, that's good." He rested a hand on Mozzie's arm. "Thanks for all your help, Moz."

"You're welcome," the short con artist said. He looked between them. "You two kids be careful."

"We will be," Elizabeth promised. Neal nodded. June hugged them both. With last goodbyes exchanged, Neal and Elizabeth walked down to the car. Jones was waiting for them and jingled the small metal keys with a smile.

"Time to take 'er off," he said. Neal nodded, lifting one leg onto the car for Jones to slide the key in. With a small _beep_ the light changed to orange and the Agent removed the anklet. "Alright, you're good to go. Good luck."

"Thanks," Neal said. Jones stepped into the cab he had waiting and Neal sat down behind the wheel of the sleek black car.

"This is nice," he observed. "You should've seen the piece of junk they tried to make me use for an assignment once. I had to make other arrangements."

"Sounds like an adventure," Elizabeth said with a laugh. Neal nodded.

"Mozzie does a pretty good FBI agent," he said. He pulled the rental car out into the street. "Do you have the address for the building?"

"Yes." Elizabeth fished the file out of her bag, smoothing out the creases before inputting it into the GPS.

"_Continue .6 miles north, then turn left,_" a feminine voice said from the screen. Elizabeth smiled.

"You heard the lady," she said. Neal nodded.

"I'll trust her on this," he said. They continued to move with the traffic, following the directions of the GPS. Elizabeth continually glanced over at Neal, still trying to gauge his emotions.

"I'm alright, Elizabeth," he told her amusedly after they made eye contact for the fifth time. She smiled sheepishly.

"If you say so," she said. "But I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks," he said sincerely, eyes darting to her before going back to the road. They pulled up to a nice hotel and a man helped them to unload their suitcases and get the car to a valet.

"Thank you," Elizabeth told him after they'd checked in and made it up to their room. "We appreciate your help."

"Not at all," the man said with a slightly forced smile. "Happy to help."

Elizabeth picked up her suitcases with slight effort and they moved them into the bedroom. Setting the leather cases down, she scanned the room with a slight frown. There was only one bed.

"I'll take the couch," Neal offered instantly. Elizabeth smiled gratefully.

"Thanks."

They spent the next while getting everything organized, Neal setting up the laptop they had to record any data. By the time they'd finished, it was time to go to the lunch. Slowly, slightly apprehensive, they went back down the elevator and retrieved their car.

Following the GPS to a new address, they didn't talk much. Each was deeply in their own thoughts, sorting out the minutia of the case ahead. Finally, they reached the restaurant and paused in front of the door.

Elizabeth smoothed her black dress and deep purple sweater before they walked through the door. Neal gave her a charming, reassuring grin, taking her arm.

"Show time."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I hope everybody had a fabulous Thanksgiving! I know I am loving the no school thing, so much fun to stay up super late. This one's a tad shorter, and picks up right where the last one left off. Also, I'd like to know if Neal seems off to you? Ang commented that he sort of did, but I'm not sure exactly why... So, I'd love your opinions. Expect a new chapter on Tuesday! Hopefully by the time I post it, I will have finished the first draft of my NaNovel. :) _

_(Also... Only 51 days till White Collar is back!)_

"Show time," Neal said, smiling at El to soothe her nerves. Not that he wasn't nervous himself; he always was, he just had more practice hiding it.

"Yeah," Elizabeth breathed. She recomposed herself and her demeanor changed from worried to confident and warm. Neal's smile softened slightly; she was impressive. He'd already known that.

Neal mimicked her attitude and they walked through the tinted glass doors.

"Good afternoon," a young woman in a uniform said pleasantly. "May I help you find a table?"

Quickly, Neal's gaze darted around the room. He saw their marks sitting at a long table and speaking quietly; there was one open booth near them.

"Yes, please," Elizabeth said, cutting through his thoughts. "We'll take that booth over there, I suppose." Neal shot her a slightly amused look and she simply shrugged in response.

"Perfect," the server said. She retrieved two menus from behind the counter. "Right this way, please." They followed her toward the empty booth and Neal made sure they walked just near enough to the women's table.

"Look who it is," he heard one of them whisper. Another let out a surprised sound and then they were being waved over.

"Mr and Mrs Burke!" May Simmons was the one to take action. "Come sit with us, we have two empty seats."

Neal gave a surprised look, then a smile. "Hello," he said, stepping with Elizabeth still linked to his arm. "Are you certain you don't mind?"

"Oh, not at all," Tiffany said. Lea opened her mouth to protest, but there was the sound of a foot being stepped on. Tiffany smiled sweetly, white teeth flashing. "Go right ahead."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said graciously. Neal pulled her chair out for her and then sat down next to her. Only one other man was present at the table. He was sitting next to Winona, so Neal presumed he was her husband. The server handed Neal and El their menus and said someone would be back shortly.

"So what brings you two here?" May asked.

Neal smiled. "We were in the neighborhood, and we'd heard good things about the food here."

"Do you live nearby, then?" The redheaded woman continued her interrogation. Neal shrugged slightly.

"We're staying in a hotel a few blocks from here," he said. "We just moved in today."

"Why are you staying in a hotel?" Rachelle asked curiously, twirling one blonde curl around her finger.

Elizabeth quickly answered, her voice displaying slight exasperation. "A major pipe burst in our apartment building, two whole floors were ruined. We'll be out for at least a month."

Quick words of sympathy were given from the women around them, ranging from fairly sincere to obviously less so. Elizabeth smiled. "It's not too bad. The rooms are nice, and there's a view."

"That's good, at least," May said. She seemed to have regained some of her "charm." If it could be called that.

A new server approached their table and Neal and Elizabeth ordered slightly different types of pasta.

"It's nice to see you again," Rachelle said with a cheerful smile. She seemed to be the most friendly. "The party was so fun last time."

"It was," Elizabeth agreed with a nod. She appeared to remember something and leaned forward slightly. "So, I was watching the news the other day," she said, lowering her voice, "and I found out that it was _robbed_!" Her dark eyes widened as if in indignation. "Can you believe that?"

_Careful_, Neal cautioned her mentally. They didn't want to bring it up too soon. But she'd done it well, and he surreptitiously scanned their faces to see their reactions. None of them seemed to do anything but begin to delve into this new piece of gossip. Winona stiffened very slightly, but Neal decided that this might have been because her husband elbowed her.

"I heard about that," he said. "It's very interesting. Unfortunately, I have to go. Business meeting."

"Oh, Jonah, on a Sunday?" Winona asked sadly.

"Sorry, dear. Duty calls. I'll be back before dinner, I think." And then the man stood and left. Elizabeth gave Winona a sympathetic look.

"I know how it is when that happens," she said; Neal could see her privately filing away the same information he was.

"Thank you. It can be difficult," Winona replied, a tad stiffly.

"So, Mr Burke, you work a lot?" May inquired slightly snarkily, raising both eyebrows.

"Sometimes," Neal said evenly. "Only when I have to. And Mr Burke is my father; it's Neal."

"Alright then, Neal," May said. Lea rolled her eyes.

They continued to make small talk as they ate; nothing relevant to the case was revealed, other than the fact that the group was altogether fairly unpleasant. Colette had the least input; she remained mostly silent, dark eyes thoughtful. Neal made sure to keep track of each of their reactions to certain subjects.

Before long, the food had been finished and Rachelle put forward an idea. "Why don't we all go to see that new movie? That way you two don't have to go sit in a hotel room all day."

Neal glanced down at El to see what her opinion was. _Why not?_ Her eyes said. She looked up and smiled.

"We'd love to come," El said. Neal heard a sigh of disgruntlement from Lea and Winona and mentally stiffened. He was fairly used to being treated disdainfully at this point, but he didn't like hearing it directed toward Elizabeth.

"Are you sure you want to watch it, _Neal?_" Lea asked flatly. "It's a chick flick."

"I think I'll manage," Neal said in a friendly tone. He paid for his and Elizabeth's meal and they all left together.

"Let's just meet up at the fountain in front of the theater," Rachelle said, smoothing out her pink sweater.

"That sounds good," the others agreed. Neal and Elizabeth got into their car and Elizabeth let out a breath.

"I don't know how much of them is healthy," she commented. Neal nodded with a smile.

"I see your point. They're very..." he couldn't find a word he liked, so he simply shrugged.

Elizabeth might have asked him something, but he was distracted.

They were passing a police car that had pulled someone over. That made him think of Peter, which sent his thoughts running off on a million tangents.

"Neal?" Elizabeth asked, concern behind her voice. "Are you alright?"

Neal looked up, blinking. "Yeah," he said. "Just a little distracted."

"Neal..."

"Really, Elizabeth, I'm okay," he said, smiling. "I-"

"Look out!" Elizabeth exclaimed. His eyes darted up and he swerved to avoid hitting a dog that had run across the road. They skidded on a puddle of slightly slushy water and the car felt wildly out of control for one, panic-filled moment. Then they hit solid road and stopped. Elizabeth leaned back in her seat, breath quickened slightly and face slightly pale. Neal pulled over to the side of the road and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky. He was grateful that there hadn't been any cars too close in front of them, or it would've been worse.

"Yeah," she said. "That was just really close." She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. "Let's go, I guess."

"Okay," he said slowly. With extreme caution, he pulled back into traffic and toward the movie plaza. When they had parked and made their way to the fountain, they found the women waiting with a mixture of impatience and, in the case of Rachelle, concern.

"Oh my gosh, are you guys okay?" She asked, quickly coming over to them and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I saw you spin out, it looked scary!"

"Yes, we're okay," Elizabeth said comfortingly. Which was typical Elizabeth; comforting others even in cases when she was the one who really needed it. Neal wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"It was a bit too close for comfort, but we're fine. Sorry to make you wait," he said, squeezing Elizabeth slightly. She shot him a grateful look.

"It's fine," May said. "Let's go."

They paid for their tickets and Neal resisted a sigh at the poster for the movie they were seeing; a cheesy romantic comedy, apparently. There were much worse things than sitting through a substandard movie, though, and he might end up almost liking it.

"The middle is the best here," Lea informed them brusquely as they moved down the aisles. Elizabeth nodded as if she knew already. Neal wouldn't, since the theater was outside his radius.

Eventually they all were sitting and Neal was between Lea and Elizabeth. Lea didn't seem all too comfortable next to him. The lights dimmed slightly for previews to start and other people filed in. They were mainly groups of women or couples in which the men looked like they'd been dragged in by the heels. People chattered softly and couples leaned against one another or held hands. Lea glanced at Neal and Elizabeth then looked away disdainfully, and Neal let out a silent breath.

Warm fingers wove through his, and Elizabeth rested her head gently on his shoulder with a smile. Neal was grateful for her smooth acceptance and quick thinking.

"This should be good," he heard Rachelle saying happily from the farthest seat. He smiled at her enthusiasm.

After several previews for movies that looked exactly like the one they were about to watch, the lights dimmed fully and everyone fell silent.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I'M ALIVE! I finished NaNoWriMo, and came out breathing, if not completely insane... 100k in one month. Wow. Never done that before. The story isn't over though, so I'll still be working on that. Here's a nice, long chapter for you all. Sorry I couldn't get it up yesterday!_

It was very early the next morning when Elizabeth woke up. She opened her eyes quickly and was confused for a moment, gaze alighting on the unfamiliar drapes and an unfamiliar couch with an altogether very familiar form sleeping on it. El sat up slightly, pushing her hair out of her face as memory returned to her. With a faint smile, she watched the figure. Neal Caffrey asleep was a new sight to her; he'd been very close at their home before, but she hadn't actually _seen _it. His face had smoothed into an expression of peace, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. His legs were slightly curled toward him and one arm was hanging off the too-small couch (which, really, considering the price of the room, should've been a pull-out), but he seemed comfortable enough.

Elizabeth let out a silent breath as she took this one, quiet moment to let her mind wander. She really didn't like this. Not at all. She missed Peter, she missed her home, she didn't like the women and- oh, she sounded like such a _child_. Shaking her head, she started over. _Positive aspects, Elizabeth_, she told herself.

Yes, she missed Peter and home, but it really wouldn't be all that long compared to her trip to San Francisco, would it?_ No._ There, that was better. And, no, she didn't like this assignment. Her eyes softened slightly as she watched Neal's evenly rising and falling chest. But she really couldn't complain about who she was working with. Of all the people to pretend to be married to (she had to resist a small giggle at this) Neal was definitely among the best.

Her eyelids felt heavy again and she asked herself what she was doing up at this time, anyway? Head going back to lean against the pale blue wall, images of a nightmare flashed before her eyes and she remembered. A small shiver ran down her spine as she opened her eyes again, staring around the room to make the pictures go away. _It wasn't real_, she reminded herself. But it had certainly felt real.

It took several relived, intentionally happy memories, but she finally ridded her mind of the nightmare. This taken care of, she slid back down under the covers and closed her eyes. It took mere seconds for her to fall back asleep.

The next time she awoke more peacefully. Silence filled her ears and she let out a sigh as her mind drifted toward consciousness. A small note lay on the bedside table.

_Elizabeth-_

_I went out for a moment, hopefully I'll be back before you wake up. _

_ Neal _

_ He'd drawn a small smiley face next to his name, which was both childish and endearing at the same time. With a gentle laugh, Elizabeth picked out some clothing and stepped into the bathroom.  
_

_ The hot shower water seemed to draw all the stress right out of her, and by the time she had finished and gotten dressed, it'd been at least half an hour. As the steam cleared from the bathroom, she smelled something warm and welcoming from the other room. Curious, she quickly finished putting her hair into a bun and returned out to the kitchen. Neal was standing with his back to her, flipping a pancake on the small stove and humming something.  
_

_ "Good morning," she said. He jumped slightly and turned around, a sheepish smile on his face.  
_

_ "Morning," he returned. "Did you sleep well?"_

_ "Very," she said, nodding. No use rehashing what didn't need it. "Did you?"_

_ "Yep," he said, and she thought she detected the same sort of sentiment from him as she'd just felt. Hm.  
_

_ "You didn't have to cook, you know," she said, her mouth watering at the smell even as she said it.  
_

_ "I know," he said simply, putting a plate of pancakes and fruit and a glass of milk in front of her.  
_

_ "Thanks," she murmured as she cut off a piece and swirled it in syrup. "Mmm. This is delicious."  
_

_ A boyish grin lit Neal's face. "I'm glad," he said. "I haven't cooked for anyone since Ka- for a while." The cut off sentence held a note of tension, but he didn't seem to let it linger. He filled a plate of his own and sat down next to her. _

_ There were a few minutes of silence as both of them ate, then Neal tilted his head slightly to one side. "So," he began with a slight smile. "We don't have to be anywhere until six tonight."  
_

_ Elizabeth nodded slowly, smiling curiously. "And?"_

_ Neal's eyes sparked. "And, I believe that visiting the best museums in the area would count as research. Don't you agree?"  
_

_ "I believe you're right," Elizabeth said, nodding with a solemn expression before smiling. "Where would you like to go first?"_

_ Neal's answer was immediate, and anticipation was clear in his words. "There's this one, it's pretty old, but they have this new exhibit that I've been dying to see, and it ends today. It's about a mile north of here here."  
_

_Which would make it about four outside of his radius,_ Elizabeth noted mentally. She wondered what that would be like, to have to measure your life in miles from a central point. She couldn't do it, that was for sure. Gently pushing Neal's shoulder, she gave him a mock-surprised look. "You planned this, didn't you," she accused teasingly.

Neal raised one eyebrow. "Uh huh," he said drily, mouth twitching in a suppressed smile. "I set up everything so that I'd be able to go to a museum."

"Such devious motions," Elizabeth said, shaking her head with a concerned look. "I don't know what to think of you."

"That I'm brilliant?" Neal suggested jokingly.

"Oh, and humble, too," she said, rolling her eyes lightly. They both laughed as they picked up the plates from the dark granite counter and into the sink. Elizabeth looked around the hotel room again as Neal went to don a jacket. Her inner interior decorator surveyed it critically and was impressed. She'd been too tired to really notice yesterday, but everything was really quite well matched and beautiful. Neal came back out after a moment with a gray suit jacket added to his blue shirt and dark jeans.

"Ready to go?" He asked her. She nodded, pulling on a nice jacket that matched her jeans.

"Yep," she said with a smile. He opened the hotel door for her with a mocking gesture out the door. They stepped into the creamy hall and padded along the thick carpet.

Neal chattered excitedly all the way to the museum, citing everything he knew about the exhibit. His reports were so detailed that Elizabeth had to smile.

"Are you sure you haven't seen it already?" She asked teasingly.

Neal blushed slightly. "No... I wasn't, y'know, expecting to get to go, so I did a lot of research on it so I could sort of feel like I had."

Elizabeth nodded, a hint of sadness touching her eyes at the thought. _It's better than a prison cell,_ she decided, _but still not all that much of a life for someone who'd always been able to do anything._

__

_ "Well, now you'll amaze everyone there with your expertise," she said. Neal grinned.  
_

__

_ A few minutes later, they were in an elevator on their way up to the floor with the exhibit. Elizabeth was surprised by how many people were there on a weekday, but it wasn't overly crowded. She and Neal stepped out of the elevator and into the midst of the exhibit. Elizabeth smiled as she looked around at the vibrant colors of the modern art.  
_

__

_ "If Peter were here," she said, "he'd say this looks like something out of a preschool."  
_

__

_ Neal laughed easily. "Probably. Did I tell you about the time we were at a museum and he called a hundred-thousand dollar sculpture a load of dirty laundry?"  
_

__

_ Elizabeth smiled. "No, but that sounds like him."  
_

__

_ "He doesn't like Haustenberg, either," Neal said, shaking his head reprovingly. Elizabeth stepped up to a particularly unique painting and let her eyes run over the thick brushstrokes.  
_

_ They passed quite a while at that museum, eventually wandering to other exhibits and talking quietly.  
_

__

_ "Is there anywhere you want to go?" Neal asked. Elizabeth smiled thoughtfully and her stomach growled.  
_

__

_ "Lunch would be nice," she admitted. Neal nodded.  
_

__

_ "Lunch it is," he agreed.  
_

__

_ xxxxx  
_

_ Neal enjoyed eating with Elizabeth; really he enjoyed just spending time with her. She was like a sister or a close cousin, and her quick wit and brilliant smile helped distract him from the small, lingering seeds of gloom.  
_

_ Lunch passed quickly and they decided to go to one more museum before the dinner.  
_

_ "You'll have to choose," Elizabeth told him. "I'm not much of an expert."  
_

_ Neal thought for a moment, drawing upon his list of places he'd wanted to go but couldn't. He smiled. "I know just the place," he said. _

_ The drive was short and they quietly discussed anything but the evening to come. When they arrived at the museum, Neal noted that it was slightly less busy than the last one. He linked arms with Elizabeth and they boarded another elevator to take to an upper floor.  
_

_ "After this is dinner," Elizabeth said with a sigh. Neal squeezed her arm gently.  
_

_ "Don't worry," he said with a reassuring smile. The elevator doors slid open. "It'll go fine. For now, just focus on the wonderful ar-"  
_

_ Just as he spoke, an alarm began to go off, loud and blaring. Neal winced and his instincts kicked in, causing him to immediately evaluate the nearest exit and listen for footsteps. Elizabeth pressed closer to him as they heard the sound of everyone leaving quickly. The elevator had closed behind them and the button didn't seem to be working.  
_

_ "Neal, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, her voice sounding slightly fearful as the sound of shattering glass and muted shouting came from the next room, followed by three rapid gunshots. Elizabeth looked up at him, eyes widened, and Neal wrapped an arm around her, bringing her quickly in the opposite direction of the noise.  
_

_ "What are we doing?" Elizabeth whispered, her gaze darting back behind them.  
_

_ "Keeping you safe," said Neal in a soft, serious tone. Though whispering was slightly unnecessary with the alarms going off. Neal led Elizabeth into a small, empty room and told her to stay put.  
_

_ "But where are you going?" She asked, then shook her head emphatically. "No, Neal, don't go back over there," she implored. _

_ "I'll be right back," he promised. "I'm not going to confront them or anything."_

_ Elizabeth's brow creased in a frown.  
_

_ "Please stay here," he said with just the right touch of pleading in his voice. She nodded slowly.  
_

_ "Alright," she agreed.  
_

_ He silently opened and closed the door, moving down the hall with a familiar rhythm. When he reached the room he slowed and peered around the edge of the glass. Several black-clad men were busy removing a painting from its frame and a vase from its stand.  
_

_ Neal's eyes drifted toward the floor and his stomach did an unpleasant flip, his skin paling. Two security guards lay dead in the center, each with one gunshot wound.  
_

_ "Hurry up," one of the thieves said in an agitated tone, a gun glinting from his hip.  
_

_ Neal took one step backwards and his foot crunched on a piece of broken glass. Wincing as he froze, he saw the men closest to the door stiffen. Their completely obscured faces turned toward him as he spun around, running down the hallway and swerving in a different direction from where he'd left Elizabeth. Heart pounding as he heard their footsteps echoing behind him, he ducked into a room and carefully closed the door, fighting to quiet his breathing as he locked it. The footsteps slowed and then stopped in front of the door, and he saw the doorknob shake as they tried to open it.  
_

_ "We know you're in there," a voice said. The door shook on its hinges. Neal looked around despairingly; no windows, no other doors to offer escape.  
_

_ A single shot came through the door near the knob, quickly followed by another.  
_

_ Noise pierced the distance, and Neal's shoulders sagged; he'd never been so relieved to hear sirens. Violent swearing came through the door as quick footsteps retreated. Neal heard the sounds of police coming up the stairs a few minutes later, and he slid unseen past them to find Elizabeth.  
_

_ She had stayed, and when he opened the door she hugged him tightly. "Never do that again!" She said. "I was so worried!" Peering past him, she asked, "Are they gone?"  
_

_ "I think so," Neal said softly. "The police are here."  
_

_ "I heard," she said wryly. "Well... should we go see if we can help them?"  
_

_ Neal shrugged slightly. "If you think that's a good idea. But... it's not pretty in there," he warned her, brow creasing in concern.  
_

_ "I'll be okay," she assured him. They walked back out toward the main area and a young police officer stopped them before they'd taken more than a few steps.  
_

"Excuse me sir, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't let you come over here," the man said, holding up a hand.

"Did you catch them?" Neal asked. The man shook his head. His badge read _Officer Connory. _

_ "'fraid not, miss," he said regretfully. "Everything's gone but a couple of bodies and a business card in the middle of it all."  
_

_ Neal blinked. "What does the business card say?" He asked.  
_

_ "Mm, some weird Latin-looking phrase. Per mens something."  
_

_ Neal and Elizabeth shared a look and Neal shoved one hand into his pocket. Please don't let it be them, he pleaded with whatever powers were watching.  
_

_ "Per mens nos victum? Is that what it said?" Neal asked evenly.  
_

_ "Hm. Yeah, that sounds right," Officer Connory said.  
_

_ "Perfect," Neal murmured under his breath. "Just what we needed." He took Elizabeth's hand and nodded to the Officer. "I guess we'd better go now," he said. _

_ "Wait, wait, I can't just let you leave," the Officer protested. "You could be witnesses!"  
_

_ "We didn't see anything," Neal said, allowing a faint note of fright to creep into his voice. "We hid in an empty room as soon as we heard them. Please, I need to take my wife home. I think she's in shock."_

_ Elizabeth stiffened obligingly with a fearful expression, trembling. Neal mentally smirked. She's good. _

_ "Oh, uhm..." The man's youthful face creased in a concerned frown. "I suppose you can, uhm, go then. Just don't leave town."  
_

_ His inexperience showed in that statement, and Neal restrained an amused, albeit grateful, smile. "Thank you, Officer," Neal said relievedly, holding Elizabeth's shoulders gently as he steered her away. "Good luck with your case."  
_

_ "Thanks," Connory said.  
_

_ Neal and Elizabeth rounded the corner and she looked up at him in concern. "Do you think we should go back?" She asked.  
_

_ Neal bit the inside of his cheek before nodding. "I think that would be best," he said. He let out a breath. "To the FBI we go."_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: *head on desk* I said it wouldn't happen again... it did. I'm sorry. Just know, I can barely get my homework in on time at the moment, so it's not just fanfiction that I'm being slow on. I hope the wait was worth it, even though it's a shortish chapter. _

Peter was rereading the file Diana had sent him the previous night. It was at least his sixth time through. He mainly scanned the last lines over and over. _Elizabeth wants you to tell Peter that everything is going well and she loves him. _

He hated this so much. In a lot of ways, it was worse than when she'd been in San Francisco. He'd known that she'd be safe there, at least. Now he couldn't say that, and it frightened him.

Jolting himself from the reverie, he got up to feed Satchmo and get himself a late lunch. He was just finishing his sandwich when the phone rang.

"Hello?" He asked, sounding depressed even to himself.

"Hey, boss," Diana replied.

"Hi," he said, glad his voice was somewhat returned to him.

"Uhm..." The woman hesitated. Peter frowned slightly.

"What's up?"

"I think you should come to the office," she stated quietly.

"Why?" He asked curiously, dropping his plate in the sink and rinsing it.

"There was another robbery by the same men. Two guards were killed." Diana's voice softened further. "And... your wife is here."

"What?" Peter asked. Not Neal? Worry flooded through him at the thought of losing his partner. "Is Neal there too?"

"Yeah." Diana didn't sound pleased.

"I'll be right over," Peter promised. "But I'm still contagious, just to warn you." It was a feeble attempt at a joke, and it fell rather flat.

"Okay," Diana said with a very faint smile in her voice. "See you then."

"Bye." Peter hung up the phone and quickly got ready, dressing and wiping the tiredness from his face. He never slept well when El was gone, illness aside.

"See you soon, Satchmo," he said to the dog as he picked up his jacket and left the house quickly. Deciding a cab would be fastest, he called one and got inside.

A few minutes later, he was hurrying up the elevator and straightening his tie. It was uncomfortably hot to his still slightly fevered skin.

"Hi, Peter," Jones greeted him as he came inside. "They're upstairs."

Peter nodded, already half-way to the conference room. "Thanks."

He walked into the room, and stopped. Elizabeth and Neal were both sitting there, along with Diana and Hughes and a few other agents. All of them looked stressed and as if they had been in the middle of a debate. Elizabeth's head turned and her eyes immediately softened with relief. "Peter!"

Quickly, he was encased in a tight hug from her. "I missed you," she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head. "Me too."

They sat down together, Peter nodding to Neal as the younger man avoided his gaze. Hughes nodded to get attention.

"Now that we're all ready," he said with a pointed look at Peter. "We need to get everything clarified."

"Sounds good," Neal said. Hughes raised an eyebrow and Neal nodded. "I'll be quiet."

"So, what do we know now?" The director asked.

"The robbers aren't nonviolent like we thought," Elizabeth volunteered.

"Seems to contradict their motto," Neal observed. "By mind we conquer; that seemed more like force."

"Yes," Hughes said with stretched patience at the commentary. "And we have yet another link to your new friends; they were at that museum exactly a week ago."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "What does that mean?" She asked. Peter kept his arm around her, holding her closely to him.

"It means that we have to keep you in the field, new risks or no," said Hughes.

"What?" Peter and Neal asked together. Peter looked at Neal with slight confusion; it wasn't in his nature to get scared off. He saw Neal's blue eyes resting on Elizabeth, bright with concern. That made much more sense.

"You can't," Peter said.

"I can," Hughes countered wearily. "And unfortunately, I have to. It was a big enough problem when they were just taking paintings. Now they're taking lives, too. This isn't just coming from me now, Burke. It's gone upstairs."

"We could give them increased precautions," Diana said with an apologetic look at Peter. I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation, her eyes said. "Wires, trackers."

"I was already planning on that," Hughes said with a nod. "Have the tech department get those here right away."

Peter felt the situation leaving his control rapidly. "Sir-"

"Burke, I'm sorry," Hughes said, passing a hand over his eyes.

Peter nodded painfully. He didn't like it at all, but what could he do?

"We'll take every precaution we can without jeopardizing their cover," Hughes promised. "Now, you two have a dinner date to keep, I want everything ready and operating so you can leave in half an hour. Got it, people?"

There were general nods of affirmation as the agents went to obey orders. Neal, Elizabeth, Diana, and Peter were left alone. Diana gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving.

"El," Peter said softly, "You don't have to do this."

"I know," said his wife with a slow nod. "But... but I want to. What happened today was awful, and I want to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. What about the families of those two guards?" She asked, chin trembling slightly as she plowed on. "If it had been you... I just want to do what I can to stop it."

Peter gripped her hand, smiling sadly at the beautiful, stubborn woman he'd married. "I understand," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean I'll like it."

"I suppose that's enough," El said. "And besides, I have Neal." Both men stiffened slightly, and Elizabeth seemed to sense that'd been the wrong thing to say. She coughed. "I think I need to use the restroom," she said. "I'll be right back."

And she left before any protest could be offered. There was an awkward silence in the conference room for a moment, neither man wanting to be the first to speak.

"Neal-"

"Peter-"

They shared an amused glance. Peter continued, "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you?" Neal repeated, looking puzzled.

Peter nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Before... I didn't get to say everything I wanted to. I'm glad it's you out there with her, Neal, even if I don't like that she's out there in the first place. I know I can trust you to keep her safe."

Neal smiled, some unseen weight leaving his shoulders. "That means a lot to me, Peter," he said. "I won't let you down." There was a short, content pause, then Neal grinned. "Try not to miss me too much."

"One can only hope," Peter said, rolling his eyes. It felt good to be back to normal.

Diana knocked on the door, holding a wire in one hand. "We have a schedule to keep," she apologized. "Put this on, then come down to the filing room."

"Alright," Neal said, flashing a grin as he took the device. Diana left the room and Neal looked down at the wire with a short sigh. "Never did like wearing these."

"At least if you're wearing it, you know it's not being used against you," Peter pointed out.

Neal nodded with feigned surprise, unbuttoning his shirt. "Good point, Peter."

"I always make good points," Peter said sulkily.

"Oh, always," Neal agreed, nodding enthusiastically. Peter smirked, placing a hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Good luck out there, Caffrey," he said.

Neal grinned appreciatively. "You too. Build up those antibodies." Finishing the wire, he exited the room to find Diana with some quibble about it. Typical Caffrey.

Hughes returned briefly after Neal left, saying that they would be posting a surveillance van nearby from now on during the undercover mission. "We're not planning on more than a few days more, so it shouldn't take up too many resources. You planning on being in the van?"

"Yeah," Peter said with a nod. "I'm good." Through the glass of the conference room, Peter saw Neal leave the FBI offices. The young man turned briefly before he went, tipping his fedora to Peter with a roguish grin. Peter gave a small half-smile, shaking his head as he watched the lithe figure slip out the doors.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: *waves sheepishly* Hi. Here you go! I'm not sure if it's the chapter after this or the one after that, but I promise things are going to start picking up soon. This one's been a bit slower moving, I know, so I appreciate you sticking with me!_

Elizabeth held her husband, the wire under her clothes poking slightly into her. "I'll see you soon, okay? You just keep resting."

Peter just nodded. "Be careful."

Elizabeth stepped out toward the elevator where Neal was waiting for her. "Ready?" He asked gently. Elizabeth nodded.

"I suppose," she said, offering a smile. They returned to the hotel room long enough to change into slightly more formal clothing. Elizabeth half-heartedly pulled on her black skirt and dark purple sweater. She really didn't enjoy this. Really. But it was for a good cause, as she had to remind herself rather frequently.

"Neal?" She asked, walking out. He came out of the bathroom, adjusting his tie with an encouraging grin.

"Elizabeth," he replied.

It was ten to six when they arrived, and they found Rachelle, Colette, and Lea standing in front of the museum. Colette appeared to be talking on the phone again in soft French.

"Hi!" Rachelle said with a smile. "Good to see you two again."

"Hi," Elizabeth said, nodding friendlily. Neal flashed a smile. Lea flashed a glare.

There was a small snap as Colette's phone was shut and she gave a small, slightly detached smile. "Hello," she intoned.

"Where are they?" Lea muttered, tapping her foot impatiently as if she couldn't stand another minute waiting.

"I'm sure they're on their way," Rachelle said consolingly. "Winona's pipe burst this morning, remember? So they might be a little late."

"Her pipe?" Elizabeth inquired curiously.

"Yeah," Rachelle said. "In their basement. She and her husband were trying to get it coordinated, so she might be late. I don't know where Tiff and May are."

"Ah," Elizabeth said, nodding slightly. She felt the slightly awkward silence that was becoming customary beginning to set in. Neal seemed to sense it too, for he quickly resolved it.

"Did you all have a nice day?" He asked. Rachelle nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah. Lea and Tiff and me went down to visit this cool Brazilian festival they have going on," she said.

Colette shrugged politely. "I visited my sister, then joined them at the festival," she said. Elizabeth decided that was the most she'd heard her speak at once minus the French phone conversations.

"Mmm," said Lea, hand on the small of her back as she adjusted her expensive maternity shirt. "It was fine." Elizabeth resisted the urge to sigh. Lea was by far the moodiest or rudest of the group. Sure, she probably had an excuse (a very valid one), but still.

"Great," Elizabeth said with a cheerful smile. "I went to the Brazilian festival last year with Peter, my brother." The pause between "my" and "brother" was a small one; she hoped it wouldn't be noticed. Neal gave her a reassuring look.

"Here they are," Lea said, with an unspoken _finally. _May and Tiffany were walking toward them with two men.

_ "Hey," May said apologetically. "Sorry we kept you guys waiting so long."_

_ "It's fine," Elizabeth reassured them. Rachelle nodded.  
_

_ "We were just chatting."  
_

_ "Well, we're supposed to be seating in five minutes, so let's go," Lea said with slight condescension. It didn't seem to bother any of her friends; Elizabeth wondered if they knew her well enough to believe she meant it differently than it seemed, or if they were just used to it by now._

_ "Sounds good," May said. She flashed a grin at Elizabeth and Neal. "A pleasure to have you with us."_

_ "Thanks," Neal said with a smile. Elizabeth nodded, though she disliked the falseness of May's smile.  
_

_ "This is my husband, Jake," said May, gesturing to a tall man walking next to her. "And Tiffany's husband David."  
_

_ "Nice to meet you," Neal said, shaking both mens' hands.  
_

_ A little while later, they were seated at the dinner table. "It's great you two could come," Lea said with a tinge of bitterness, looking at David and Jake. "Alvin had to work late."_

_ "Yes," Jake said quietly; Elizabeth thought he seemed rather soft-spoken. "It's good."_

_ "Is your boyfriend coming, Elle?" Elizabeth jumped, but Tiffany's question was directed toward Rachelle.  
_

_ "No, his mom's still a bit shaken up from her wreck," Rachelle said, eyes showing concern. "I told him he didn't need to worry about coming."  
_

_ "That's too bad," May said sympathetically. Elizabeth noticed curiously that no one asked Colette if she had anyone coming. Perhaps she wasn't married?  
_

_ "Hi," a whisper came from behind them as Winona and Jonah quickly sat down. "We finally got the plumber over to fix it, sorry."  
_

_ "We're glad you're here," Rachelle said with a smile. Elizabeth decided that if she was friends with any of them in her actual life, she'd want it to be Rachelle. The young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, was cheerful and constantly trying to brighten things for others. A good friend.  
_

_ Elizabeth tried to both participate in their actual conversation, and listen for clues as to who might be the mole, if not all. She didn't think that it was the group as a whole, but she wasn't the expert.  
_

_ Hopefully Neal is having better luck than I am**, **she decided, not gleaning much from the everyday prattle. The dinner stretched on a bit, but she had fun, and was at least feeling a little more certain on some people. She was pretty sure it wasn't Rachelle or May. Rachelle because she didn't seem the type, May because she was incredibly talkative, revealing bit after bit of gossip. She likely wouldn't be able to keep such a secret.  
_

_ Lea, she wasn't so sure about. The woman was certainly unpleasant, and maybe just bitter enough to want to rob her own class of people. With a mental sigh, Elizabeth picked at her food, wishing again that she was better at this._

Colette took two private phone calls within the two-hour dinner, one of them stretching on so long that she missed nearly all of the speaker. She said again that it had been her sister, and since El didn't speak French, she just sort of had to trust that it was the truth. She seemed to remember Neal speaking French, though. He'd know.

_I guess we'll have a lot to talk about. _

**xxxxx**

It had been five days since the dinner, and they were still frustratingly stalled in the investigation. Neal laid on the couch in the dark, head resting on his curled arm as he stared at the wall. His mind was racing as he worked over every aspect of the past days, wanting to find the solution that they needed. His eyes flicked up to the clock and then back down again, frustrated. It was two AM and he'd already been trying to go to sleep for nearly three hours.

He sat up silently, running a hand through his hair, and moved to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Sitting down at the counter, he began to organize all of the information from both what he had noticed, and what Elizabeth had. She was remarkably observant, and possessed a natural intuition that he knew would prove very helpful.

But they still had no definitive evidence. Suspicions, yes, in spades. But no proof and no certainty.

That would have to change quickly if they were going to wrap up the case.

Neal let out a soft sigh and put the glass in the sink, returning to the couch and laying back down. This time, his eyelids fluttered shut, and he slowly fell asleep.

xxxxx

He woke up next at about six, looking up to see sunlight streaming through the curtains. Elizabeth was still asleep, her soft brown hair framing her peaceful face. She had one arm curled around a pillow she'd pulled next her her. Neal smiled, a touch sadly, and quietly picked some clothing out of the dresser and slipping into the bathroom.

Steam quickly filled the small room as he took his time in the hot water. He emptied his mind to give himself a brief reprieve, a trick he'd learned with some of his more stressful heists. Take a break, or you'll end up breaking. After he was clean and somewhat de-stressed, he stepped out and started to get dressed. He pulled on jeans and realized he'd forgotten to get a shirt.

Quickly combing through his damp hair, he stepped out of the bathroom and put his pajamas away. He glanced over and saw that Elizabeth had left a note indicating she was going to go down and swim for a bit. So he'd been the the shower for a while, then, he supposed. Just as he was heading to the closet to pick out a shirt, the door to the room opened and El stepped through, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, hair damp and curling at the ends.

"I'm back, Neal," she called, coming around the corner. "And I brought some break-" SHe stopped as she saw him, her eyebrows going up a little as she saw him. Her cheeks flushed slightly pink and she looked at the ceiling. "Neal?"

"Sorry," he said, a little sheepishly. He grabbed a t-shirt from the closet and pulled it on, stepping back out to see El quietly laughing. Neal smiled with her and then looked down at the bag she held. "That smells good."

"Mhm," she agreed enthusiastically. They ate in their customary places at the small table, chattering lightheartedly.

"Rachelle called me," said Elizabeth.

"Oh?" Neal asked, taking a bite of a pancake. "What did she want?"

"They're headed to another museum today," Elizabeth replied with a wry smile. "I'm beginning to think that's all they do."

"No," Neal said teasingly. "They've only been to what... six in the past few days?"

"Perfectly normal," she agreed. "But anyway, they want us to come."

"Alright," Neal said, smiling. "I'm not complaining. I haven't really been able to go wherever in six years."

Elizabeth nodded. "That's true," she said. "I hadn't really thought of it that way. We're supposed to meet them in about an hour."

"Alright, that sounds good," he said. "Will they all be there?"

"I think so," she said with a shrug. Standing, Neal began to pick up the trash and put it in the garbage bin.

"With any luck, we'll have better results today," Neal said.

"I hope so," sighed Elizabeth. "I'm going to go finish drying my hair."

"Alright. Thanks for breakfast, El."

Elizabeth smiled. "You're welcome, Neal."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: *sighs* Now this is just sad. I apologize for this taking so horribly long to get out. I don't know what's wrong with my writing abilities, but I'm getting slower. Perhaps more sleep would be a good idea. Haha, as I post this super late. Anyway. Happy Christmas! Enjoy._

Peter pulled himself out of bed, back cracking painfully. "Ugh." He winced at the light that hit his eyes, then looked at the clock, grimacing at the lost time.

He'd meant to take a nap, but he'd slept for nearly six hours. With a sigh, he stepped into the bathroom. He'd probably needed it, anyway. At this point, he was hoping that the worst of the virus was past. He hadn't had more than the slightest of fevers in about three days, and his voice was back for the most part.

Of course, he was still sick with worry, but no amount of chicken soup or sleep could fix that. Hughes, officially, had told him that he was too close to the case and shouldn't be there, but hadn't specifically forbidden Peter from observing some of the goings on.

_I think I'll drop by today,_ he decided. He took a shower, his head getting slightly woozy as the temperature rose.

As he was pulling on a shirt, he heard his phone ringing. He raced to answer it, full of apprehension.

"This is Peter," he said.

_"Hey, boss,_" Diana said. _"You may want to come over. We think we've found something."_

"I'll be there ASAP," Peter said, his hope rising. He hung up the phone, quickly wolfing down some toast and straightening his tie. Maybe they were finally going to be able to find and arrest the men who were causing all the trouble.

Within thirty minutes, he was sitting in his office and practically bouncing with anticipation. With a faint smile, he realized he was behaving rather like Neal and made an effort to sit still. Diana and Jones walked in, each holding a file, and sat down across from him.

"What have you found out?" He asked.

"It's a bit of a stretch," Diana warned. "But we found links between several fences who've sold some of the stolen museum pieces and a man named Marcus Fletcher. Does that name ring any bells?"

Peter shook his head slowly. "No. Should it?"

"Well, you arrested him about seven years ago for petty theft, but the charges were dropped." Jones shrugged. "I guess he branched out."

"_But_, like I said, it's nothing concrete," Diana reiterated.

"Well, it's still something," Peter said. "Look into him." Jones nodded and left. Diana tilted her head slightly.

"How're you doing?" She asked.

"Fine," Peter said, shrugging the question off. "How are they?"

"Well, as you could tell from Neal's reports, they're not finding too much. But they seem to be doing pretty well," she said. "We've got the trackers and wires being monitored."

"Good," Peter said, slightly absently. "Thanks, Diana. You and Jones are doing great."

Diana gave a crooked grin. "We've had big shoes to fill while you've been gone."

"Well, I think I'm back for good now," Peter said with a slight smile.

"I'm glad," Diana agreed. "We'll need your help."

**xxxxx**

The air was slightly chilly as El, Neal, and Rachelle walked toward the museum.

"Are you always waiting for them?" Elizabeth asked curiously; so far, it had certainly seemed that way to her.

Rachelle was unconcerned. "Well, sometimes. I'm just less busy than them, I suppose," she said said with a slight smile. "But it gives me some time to have peace and quiet."

"You're very optimistic," Neal said with a small laugh.

"I guess," Rachelle said with a lighthearted shrug. "I just like to look on the bright side. I guess that's pretty much the definition of optimistic."

"Pretty much," Neal agreed teasingly. Elizabeth smiled contentedly and turned her head slightly as the sound of clicking heels echoed from behind them.

"Sorry we're late _again_," May apologized. "Some people take forever to get ready."

"It's not my fault!" Tiffany protested. "I babysat my niece yesterday and she demolished my entire bathroom!"

"She was pretty cute though," Winona said with a slight smirk. Tiffany let out a sigh.

"Yeah, she is," she agreed. Lea looked up at the building and her shoulders slumped.

"Do we have to come here again?" She complained. "Colette and I just went last week."

"That's why we're here," May reminded her. "Because you went on and on about how nice it was."

Colette's eyes flickered. "We don't need to go back today," she said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "The movie Lea and Tiffany want to see came out today. We could go there instead."

"Why the sudden reluctance from you two?" Winona asked, a bit frustrated. "It isn't like we haven't gone to museums more than once before."

Elizabeth watched them quietly, wondering if the two of them were _both_ in league with the theft ring. Neal's eyes connected with hers and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

"I just don't feel like it," Lea said. Colette shrugged lightly.

"It is nothing," she said, a little tense. But the woman seemed to always be tense, so maybe it was nothing.

"Okay, guys, how about this," Rachelle presented. "Why don't we just go in for a bit, then go do something else? Does that work for everyone?"

"Sure..."

"Mhm."

"Great," May said. "Thank you, Rachelle. Let's go, alright? Time's a-wasting."

"Alright, alright."

xxxxx

They wandered through the museum for about an hour. It was pretty wild, mostly modern art. Elizabeth thought it was pretty, if a bit harder to interpret than the straightforward classical art. Her favorite was a full wall-sized canvas that was covered in splashes and streaks of bright color that seemed to express a hundred emotions at once.

Finally, they decided that it was probably time to go, when Rachelle pointed out some yellow "caution" tape.

"Why's that there?" She wondered aloud. Elizabeth peered over.

"I don't know," she said.

"Can we go see?" Rachelle asked, her grin gaining a mischievous edge.

"It might not be safe," Tiffany said, looking concerned. Neal stepped over and lifted the plastic curtain.

"It's dark," he said. "But it looks like they're just finishing some sort of project. It should be safe."

"But it's against the rules," Colette protested softly.

"Who cares about rules?" Lea asked, sounding like a rebellious teenager rather than an adult. She slid through the plastic and caution tape, and, like lemmings off a cliff, the others followed her.

Rachelle looked nervous. "Are you sure we should be doing this?" Elizabeth glanced up at Neal. He seemed to have no problem with venturing into the off-limits area, but El was uncertain. Nevertheless, they continued to follow Lea through the darkened room, reaching another door.

"I really think that we should stop," Colette suggested, her soft voice taking on a bit more force. El turned to look at her, puzzled.

"Nope. I'm not stopping," Lea said. She opened the door and walked through.

"Don't-" Colette cried as the others flooded through the door behind Lea. Elizabeth froze in place, the stiffened bodies of the others likewise around her.

"What's going on?" Lea asked, her angry tone shifting to one of fright. That tended to happen when one was staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Who are you?" The man holding the gun demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"We're just here to look at the art," Lea said, her voice quivering. The man pressed the gun into her shoulder roughly.

"I don't believe you," he said. Elizabeth felt Neal press his way to the front and nudge Lea out of the way.

"You should," he told the man. There was a moment of silence, then one of the other black-clad men in the room said, "Hey, I recognize him! He was at the last museum we robbed!"

"Shut up," the gun-weilding one hissed. He turned back to Neal. "I think you're right, Craig. He does look like the same man. What's your name?" He demanded.

"Neal Burke," he said.

"You workin' with the cops?" He asked suspiciously.

"Maybe," Neal said. Elizabeth shot a look at the back of his head. What was he doing? "Maybe they're on there way here right now."

The man cursed. "I can't tell if 'e's bluffing," he said. He inclined his head to one of the others. "Taze him."

They began to back away, but someone had closed and locked the door. A few of the men from the group advanced on them, holding the small, nasty-looking devices in their hands. Neal tried to keep them away, but the man holding the gun pressed it to his head, then shoved the taser into his neck. Neal's face formed a wince, and he collapsed onto the ground.

They all went down quickly after that.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: *head on desk* This is why I prewrite. I'm not working on any more projects until this is done now. Promise._

xxxxx

Neal woke up slowly, twitching as he came to. He sat up groggily and looked around, clutching at his head with one hand. They were in a windowless room, bars going from one end of the room to the other, leaving about two feet between them and the door. Neal quickly looked at the others. Everyone was still unconscious except for Lea, who was leaning against the wall, tears running silently down her cheeks.

"Hey," Neal said quietly, moving over to her. "You okay?"

"Do I look like I'm okay?" She snapped. Then all the fight seemed to go out of her and she sniffled. "Do... do you think they hurt the baby when they tased me?" She asked, turning her shining eyes on him. She seemed to be a completely different person. Neal moved so that he was sitting next to her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It wasn't a high setting," he said. "I've been tased before, I can tell. I think your baby will be okay. Can you feel him moving?"

Lea sniffed again, scrubbing at her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Yes," she murmured.

"Then there you are," Neal said comfortingly. "He's alright."

"Thanks," Lea said miserably, turning her head away. "I don't deserve your help."

"Don't say that," Neal said, shaking his head. "Everyone deserves help." Peter flashed across his mind, along with June, Mozzie, and so many others. So many people had helped him when he hadn't done anything to deserve it from them. He had to get out of here, if only to tell them explicitly.

_ It's not to that point yet_, he reminded himself.

Small groans from around the room told Neal that the others were beginning to stir. He moved to El first, helping her to sit up. She cringed.

"Head?" He asked, brushing her ruffled hair away from her eyes softly.

She nodded minutely. "And shoulder. I hit the ground sort of hard."

Anger flashed through Neal's eyes, and he assisted her in moving toward the wall. "Just rest," he directed her. "I'll take care of the others."

"Thanks, Neal," she murmured, closing her eyes as she rested her head in her hands. He repeated a similar routine with the rest of the women, minus, of course, the hair brushing.

Rachelle, the smallest, was the last to wake up, still unconscious nearly twenty minutes later. She was unresponsive to any sort of stimulus, and Neal knelt concernedly next to her. "Does she have any conditions?" He asked her friends. "Anything that would cause this?"

There was a gentle shaking of heads, but Tiffany bit her lip. "I can't remember. Maybe." Neal's forehead creased with concern as he nodded.

"I guess we'll just have to hope for the best, then," he said. He moved her onto her side so that she would be able to breathe, sitting near her and watching.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. "Mmph." She sat up slowly, arms trembling with the effort. Neal quickly helped her out, moving her to sit with the others. Tiffany clung to her, looking relieved.

"Are you okay?" They asked her.

"Mhm," Rachelle said, a small smile flitting across her lips as her eyes remained closed. "I'm fine."

"Why did it take you so much longer to wake up?" Tiffany asked.

"I'd already woken up once before," Rachelle responded quietly. "I caused some trouble for one of them, so they tased me again."

Neal smiled slightly at the unexpected answer. "We're glad you're alright," he said. He stood up slowly, looking around the room.

"Where are we?" May asked, the fear in her face reflected across all the others'.

"I don't know," Neal admitted. He felt his shirt and cursed. They'd removed the wire. He sat down next to Elizabeth.

"Wire?" He hissed to her. She shook her head, concern in her eyes.

"Gone," she said.

Neal let his head fall back against the wall, wincing at the magnified pain. He stayed that way for only a split second, quickly regaining his composure and putting on an optimistic expression for the others.

"It'll be okay," he assured them. "At least we're all here, and-"

There was a gasp from Winona as she suddenly noticed what Neal had been half-wondering the entire time. "Colette's not here!" She exclaimed. The others began to speak rapidly, each concerned for the welfare of Colette and herself.

"Calm down," Elizabeth said, holding her hands up in a stop gesture. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid Colette might not have been completely honest with you."

"What do you mean?" May asked.

She looked up at Neal, and he nodded. "We think she might have been working with some bad men," he told them. "Not to hurt you," he assured them. "But they've been stealing a lot of things from museums, and we think she was feeding them information.

"Not Colette," Rachelle protested, her sentiment echoed by her friends.

"Wait a minute," Lea said suspiciously, her hands still laid protectively over her abdomen. "You sound like you've put an awful lot of thought into this, Burke."

"I have," he said simply. He shared a look with Elizabeth and made a decision. Slowly, he sat back down on the floor in front of them, heaving a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Elizabeth and I haven't been completely honest with you either."


	13. Chapter 13

Okay. My finals are nearly over, and I'm a bit less in panic mode. If you knew me, you'd know I tend to... over-worry... about things. But yeah. I'm hopefully back to my "chapter every day or every other day" thing until this is finished! And yes, you may come after me with pitchforks for my shameful posting schedule up to this point.

Six days till WHITE COLLAR!

xxxxx

Peter was sitting at his desk in his office when Jones knocked.

"Come in," he said, dropping a file onto the desk. Jones stepped in, looking grave.

"What is it?" Peter inquired, looking at the man curiously.

"The wires," Jones replied. "The transmission cut off about five minutes ago, we haven't been able to get it back. Same for the trackers."

"What?" Peter was instantly on his feet. "We don't know where..."

"Unfortunately, no," Jones said, shaking his head. "We're working on figuring it out from their last location."

"Didn't you have people sitting on the still?" Peter asked.

"Yes. They were apparently at the Hope museum downtown, but they never came back out."

Peter nodded briskly. "Send the surveillance team in right away," he said. "And get an order for the security tapes in the museum."

"Consider it done, Peter," Jone said. He paused in the doorway for a moment, looking at Peter with a slightly concerned expression. "It'll be alright," the man assured him.

Peter nodded, not making eye contact. "Thanks, Jones," he said, fiddling with a tiny origami flower that was sitting on the corner of his desk. Jones left, and Peter continued to look at the flower. Itwas only about an inch high, maybe less, but still detailed as the large ones. Neal had been sitting across from him one day, bored out of his wits, and began tearing up and folding pieces of blankpaper in ever-smaller sections. He'd tried to see how small he could make the flowers, and the one Peter now held was the result of that. Neal had been proud of it, like an elementary school child with his science fair project. Apparently, it was much smaller than his previous record.

Peter stood back up, gently setting the paper flower back in its corner and leaving his office. There was a lot to do and not too much time in which to do it.

Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.

"Burke," he answered.

"Boss," Diana's voice greeted solemnly, the word crackling slightly over the line. "I just heard about Neal and Elizabeth. Should I go join the others?"

"No, Diana, I want you to come back to headquarters with me."

"Okay," Diana said. "Will do."

He hung up the phone and something hit him like a rock to the gut as Diana's words clicked. It wasn't just Neal that was out there this time. Elizabeth was too.

Staying calm was suddenly a thousand times more difficult. It wasn't that he didn't care about Neal-he did. But the man had experience with bad situations like the one he might currently be in, and Elizabeth didn't.

Peter forced himself to stop for a moment, and let out a deep breath.

Losing his head wasn't going to do anyone any good, he told himself in a very calm mental voice. There. Better.

Peter knocked on Hughes' door and waited for the all clear to enter.

"Burke," Hughes said, some of his usual briskness gone.

"Sir," Peter responded, then got straight to the point. "I need everything we've got on this case, including their most recent locations and the surveillance data from whoever was in the van."

"I've already sent you everything, Peter," Hughes said. "It's on your computer."

Peter let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"You've fixed worse situations than this before," Hughes reminded him, trying to sound encouraging. "Don't let this one beat you."

Determination filled Peter's gaze as he nodded. "I won't."

xxxxx

There was silence in the room after Neal and Elizabeth finished telling their story. The expressions through the crowd ranged from shocked, to angry, to grimly triumphant. But none of them spoke until Neal sat back next to Elizabeth.

"So... you're not really married?" Rachelle asked, leaning over Lea to be able to see them.

Neal let out a breath. Of all the things that he'd said, of course it would be that that Rachelle was concerned about.

"No." Neal shook his head. "We're not."

"But we are good friends." Elizabeth gave a tentative smile. "And... we're still going to help you."

"Even though you suspected us of being criminals," Lea grumbled.

"No," Neal said, "we suspected you of assisting criminals. There is a difference." Peter would likely disagree. At the thought of Peter, Neal paused. Had the man discovered yet that they were missing? Surely he would have. And if Peter was looking for them... He'd find them. He always did.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Winona asked, her back straight against the wall. "Those men aren't just going to let us waltz out, you know."

"I have a bit of experience in these situations," Neal said. "The most important thing is that we just stay calm. Things are going to work out, we just can't lose our heads."

"I think I lost mine when they tasered me for the second time," Rachelle said seriously. "My brain doesn't want to think."

"That can happen," Neal said, thinking back to the time when Wilkes had tasered him repeatedly. It was a good deal harder to think reasonably after that. "You can rest, if you want. We'll keep an eye out."

Rachelle nodded gratefully. Slowly, she moved over to a tarp in the corner and curled up on it.

Neal stood up and walked around the room several times. There was a window, but it was far too small for any of them to fit through. But maybe...

"What are you thinking?" Elizabeth asked him quietly. "You have that look."

"What look?" Neal asked absently.

"The one Peter gets when he's thinking about some case," she said. "So, what's up?"

"I think if we can get that window open, I can get a message to Peter." Neal picked his slightly flattened fedora up from the floor. "Do any of you have a pen and paper?"

May nodded. "I do," she murmured. She fished through her designer purse for a moment and produced a pen and small legal pad.

"Thank you," Neal said. He took it and sat back down against the wall, trying to figure out how to word the message so it would get through.

"Somebody's coming," Tiffany whispered. Quickly, Neal stowed away the paper and stood, gesturing for the others to get to the far side of the room. The door-which Neal had already discovered was securely locked from the outside-swung open.

"Oh, how nice," the first of the two men sneered. He had a French accent much like Colette's. "Everybody's awake." The other man made no comment. He looked to Neal more like hired muscle than anything.

"Wh-who are you?" Rachelle stammered. She seemed to be the only one of the women capable of speech.

The man paused a moment before responding, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He was deciding whether or not to tell them the truth; Neal recognized that look well. After a second, his expression told Neal that he had decided to be honest.

"My name is Davin. And I know who you are already." He pointed at each one of them, naming them off. When he got to Neal and Elizabeth, however, he frowned. "Who are you two?"

"Just some friends," Neal said evenly. Davin's eyes narrowed.

"Friends." He turned to the other man. "Fetch her," he murmured. The tall man turned to leave and Davin took a step further into the room.

"We'll know soon enough who you are," he said. "But for the moment, what were you doing in that museum?"

"We were just enjoying the art," Neal said innocently. Davin's fist sunk into his stomach and he doubled over, coughing.

"I do not appreciate mockery," Davin informed him rigidly. "Now, I will ask you again. What were you doing in the museum, and why did you have FBI equipment with you?"

xxxxx

"What equipment?" Neal asked, sounding genuinely confused. Elizabeth winced as the man punched him in the stomach again. She was sitting between May and Rachelle, comforting the latter.

This continue for several minutes, with Neal giving evasive answers and Davin becoming visibly angry. After the fourth time, however, his expression grew cold and he leaned forward, saying something quietly into Neal's ear. The man's gaze flickered over to them as he spoke and Neal's face paled slightly.

"No," Neal responded to whatever question Davin had asked him.

"Good, good." Davin had regained his demeaning composure. The door opened again and Colette walked in, flanked by the tall man. "Thank you, Raymond," Davin said, directing it to the tall man.

Colette's eyes were downcast as she resolutely avoided the gazes of the others. Davin pulled her close to him and squeezed her with tight affection. "Hello, my dear sister."

Colette forced herself to look up and smile. "Hello," she said in her quiet way.

"I need you to help me out a bit," Davin said, gesturing to Neal and Elizabeth. "I don't recall you mentioning these two in any of our little talks. Would you care to tell me who they are?"

Colette bit her lip, raising her eyes to them. Elizabeth saw that she was visibly shaking in her brother's arm. "That's Neal Burke, and that's his wife Elizabeth."

"Neal Burke." Davin frowned. He pushed Colette back toward the wall thoughtlessly and stepped toward them. "I've never heard of you. What do you do?"

"I'm a businessman," Neal said.

"What sort of business?" Davin raised a dark eyebrow.

"Sales." Neal shrugged. "It's a living."

"You look like the sort who could sell a bible to an atheist," Davin scoffed, nodding. "I bet you just blink those pretty eyes of yours and the customers line right up."

Neal didn't respond.

Davin looked at his watch and clucked impatiently. "I have things to attend to," he said. "But when I get back, we're going to continue this talk."

He left the room in a brisk, sweeping motion, taking Colette with him. Elizabeth met her eyes for a moment and saw mixed emotions there.

Finally, the door closed and they were alone again.

"I can't believe Colette would do that to us," Lea muttered.

"But she was scared," Rachelle said. "Couldn't you tell?"

None of the others had a reply for that. Elizabeth stood, moving over to where Neal had picked up the hat and writing supplies again.

"Are you alright?" She asked him quietly, watching the slight wince when he moved his torso.

"Fine," he said, flashing her a grin. She hated those false grins.

Letting out a sigh, she decided to let him slide for the moment. "Now, what are you doing?"

He wrote something on the notepad in smooth, neat print. "I'm working on our ticket out of here," he said, tearing the paper off the pad and handing it to her. Curious, she read it.

_Property of Peter Burke. If found, please return to New York FBI headquarters, White Collar Crime Division. A substantial reward will be offered upon return._

Elizabeth frowned slightly. "How is Peter having your hat going to help him find us?"

"Well, whoever picks up the hat will know where they found it. And there's this," he added. She looked at the back and raised one eyebrow. "What is that?"

"Morse code. Just in case."

Elizabeth nodded, looking at the dots and dashes and wondering what they said.

"Now, we just need to get that window open," Neal murmured thoughtfully. He slipped the note securely into the inside band of the hat and walked across the room.

"What are you doing?" Rachelle asked curiously, standing and following him.

"I'm going to try and get a message to some of my friends at the FBI. Then they'll be able to find us better." Neal pried the window partially open. "It's stuck."

Lea made a noise from across the room. "I have WD-40."

Turning, Rachelle looked at her strangely.

"My car door sticks," she snapped defensively. Pulling out the small can, she threw it across the room, not wanting to get up. Neal managed to grab it before it hit the floor.

"Thank you," he told her. Turning back to the window, he applied the solution to the hinges and pushed it the rest of the way open. Elizabeth stood on tiptoe next to him to look out. Cool air hit her face and she looked across the buildings and dark shadows.

"Where are we?" She asked wonderingly.

"I honestly do not know," Neal said. He looked around for a moment more. "Definitely not one of the nicer parts of town. He peered down to the ground.

"It's pretty far," El said. "Too far to jump, even if we could get out."

"Unfortunately," Neal agreed. He scribbled something else on the paper,then replaced it. Holding it out the window, he let out a heavy breath. "This is our only shot." Carefully, he dropped the hat and they watched as it landed in the bushes.

Closing the window again, they stepped back.

Only shot. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. Hopefully it would work.


	14. Chapter 14

The night was cold when Will first left the tiny room he rented. He pulled his threadbare jacket tighter around his shoulders and plowed ahead through the sharp wind. Letting out a breath, he looked up at the dark sky, trying and failing to pick out a constellation. Though the larger part of New York was fairly far from here, the lights were still enough to keep the stars from being visible.

After a few moments, Will came to a fork in the road. Typically, he went left, but something was telling him to go right tonight. Shrugging to himself, he made his way down the narrow street. He'd get to the same place either way.

He passed the tall, empty house and looked up at the small window curiously. It looked as if it had been opened recently, which it hadn't previously in a long while. Once he was directly under it, something in the bushes caught his eye. Slowly, he reached out and picked it up.

In the dark it was difficult to tell, but it appeared to be a hat. The kind they wore in the old movies he watched with his mother.

Feeling it experimentally, his fingers brushed over a slip of paper. He squinted at the script on it, but couldn't quite make it out. Quickly, he continued up the street and into the yellow beam of a lamp. Thrusting the note up to the light, he read. There was an address, along with the name of the owner of the hat. The words that caught his eye, however, were substantial reward.

He replaced the paper in the inside of the hat and looked at it, thinking. The Burke man had to care a lot about his hat, to offer a reward for it's return. Will knew that the hat was high quality; he could surely find a buyer for it within a day. But perhaps the owner's gratitude at his hat's safe return would gain Will a better amount.

He continued up the street to the 24-Hour convenience store where he worked, letting out a breath. The address was not many blocks from his current location... Maybe he could make the trip after his shift ended. Slipping into the store, he stowed the hat away behind the front counter and quickly straightened up the store.

xxxxx

When Hughes walked into the FBI, Peter had already been there for over fourteen hours.

He was sitting hunched over his desk, alternately reading through files and checking data from surveillance. A coffee mug sat on the corner of his desk that looked as if it had been refilled a dozen or more times. Which it had. At this point, Peter was both utterly exhausted and so hyped up on caffeine that he could feel his eye twitching.

"Burke."

Peter jumped and looked up. "Oh. Hello, sir," he greeted Hughes.

"Did you go home last night?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow at Peter. Slowly, Peter shook his head.

"No," he said. "But I think I might be getting closer to a breakthrough."  
Hughes stepped into the office. "Peter... I want you to go home and sleep," he ordered. "And I don't want to see you back here until after two this afternoon."

"But sir-"

"I'm not asking," Hughes interrupted. "You're going to wear yourself down, and then what help will you be?"

Peter let out a sigh. "Alright," he said.

"If anything changes, I will call you right away," Hughes promised. "But you get some rest."

"Yes sir." Peter made a show of putting his files away and picking up his coat. Hughes seemed satisfied, and left the room quickly. With a regretful look at the papers that had yet to reveal their secret to him, Peter made his way down to his Taurus. He struggled as he tried to press in the key code on the side. The letters swam in front of his eyes, but finally he got the door to open. A small voice in his head, one that sounded a little like Neal, told him that he probably shouldn't have been driving when he was a good as drunk.

He ignored the voice.

Walking into his empty house, Peter fought back the fresh wave of worry that reminded him of why he hadn't left work for so long. But...

Closing his eyes, Peter closed the door behind him. It wouldn't do any good for him to slip right back into being sick again when they were no closer to Elizabeth and Neal than they had been sixteen hours ago.

Two o'clock was a long time away.

xxxxx

Elizabeth pretended to sleep for part of the night, but really, her mind was going far too fast for her to be able to drift off. Neal paced silently for a large chunk of the hours, finally coming to sit back down by them when he gently nudged her in the side.

"Somebody took the hat," he murmured when she opened her eyes.

"Who?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"I don't know." Neal let out a soft breath, looking at the small window. "I just know that it's gone."

"C-couldn't it have just gotten blown away?" Elizabeth frowned. "It's been windy."

Neal shrugged. "I prefer to believe it was taken by someone," he said simply.

Nodding, Elizabeth pushed herself up and leaned against the wall. "I can understand that." Looking up at Neal, she gestured to the spot next to her.

Neal slid down next to her with a grateful, tired smile. Elizabeth let her head fall onto his shoulder and sighed. "Peter must be looking by now," she murmured.

"I'm sure he is," Neal said. "He'll find us before you know it."

"I hope so."

They remained that way for quite some time, Elizabeth scanning the dark room with her eyes. The plain gray walls seemed to press in on them, and the carpet was nearly as hard as concrete. There were certainly worse places to be held prisoner, but there were better, too.

"Are you okay?" Neal asked her after a moment.

"Hm?" Elizabeth started slightly at the words, but nodded slowly. "I'm fine," she said. "Just... thinking about everything."

"Ah." Neal nodded. "There's a lot to think about," he agreed with a small smile.

A small whimper from the corner broke the following silence, as Rachelle sat up with a start. Her hair was disheveled and she didn't seem to know where she was.

"Rachelle," Elizabeth said quietly, "come here."

Blinking herself awake, the younger woman tiptoed around the others and sat down on Elizabeth's other side. "Hi," the girl said in a small voice.

"Nightmare?" El asked sympathetically. When Rachelle nodded, she continued, "Well, don't worry, you're safe."

"Safe," Rachelle repeated doubtfully. "This-" she gestured around gently, "doesn't feel safe."

"We'll keep you safe," Neal told her. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Okay," Rachelle said quietly. "I believe you."

Light began to appear through the window, but there were no sounds from below. Either their _host _was still asleep, or just extremely practiced at being quiet. Elizabeth felt a pang when she thought about what Peter must've been doing at that moment. He wouldn't have slept a wink; they'd been together long enough for Elizabeth to know that. And he'd be so worried... El leaned her head on her knees, hugging them to her chest. Why couldn't things have just continued according to plan? Why did they have to go and get all... messy? Taking a deep breath then letting it out slowly, El tried to let the emotion wash over her. If they were going to keep things under control here, she needed to be able to keep _herself_ under control. And so far, that wasn't going so well. Her insides were a mess of swirling feelings, and that couldn't continue.

She felt Neal's hand on her back and a tiny smile appeared on her face. Of all the people to be on a failing undercover mission with, Neal was probably among the best of them.

When she'd finally composed herself, Elizabeth returned to an upright position and saw that the other women were beginning to stir. Some of them made their way over to where Elizabeth was sitting, Tiffany sitting next to Rachelle.

"You'd better fix this today, Pretty Boy," Lea said to Neal. "Or else we'll no longer be able to forget that we know you're not actually Neal Burke."

"I'm doing my best," Neal said in a calming, smooth voice. Elizabeth admired his ability to stay so collected, even under crazy amounts of pressure.

"Well, then, hopefully that's good enough." Lea turned toward a different wall and leaned on the pale gray surface.

Elizabeth stiffened as the sound of slow footsteps came through the door. They were unhurried, methodical, and, most importantly, not the sound of an FBI team coming to rescue them. Which meant it was Davin.

"Rise and shine," the voice of the man in question said. "We have a lot to talk about today."

The door swung open and Davin walked in with Colette. The woman stood silently a few feet away from her brother, her posture defensive and stiff.

"Did you rest well?" Davin asked conversationally. If it had been anywhere else, he could've been the polite hotel employee. But this wasn't a hotel, and they certainly weren't guests.

"Fine," Neal said, turning on his charm. "How about you?"

"Like a baby," Davin answered. "I always sleep well when I have my enemies in here rather than out there."

"Now, who said we were enemies?" Neal asked. "I thought we were getting along just fine."

"No," Davin said, shaking his head. "I don't get along with people from the FBI."

A tense silence filled the room as the implications of that statement ran through Elizabeth's head.

"What, you didn't think I'd do a little research on all of my new friends?" Davin raised an eyebrow. "And I knew you looked familiar before, Mr. Caffrey, though we hadn't ever met."

"What a shame," Neal mumbled.

"So, now that we are all on the same page regarding who is who, let me ask you this." Davin pulled Neal to his feet. "What does the FBI know about us?"

"Us? Well, I think we'd need to go on a few more dates before I'd consider us a _couple_, but I'm-"

Neal's words were cut off as Davin punched him. He did it dispassionately, frowning. "I really think it's time for you to be more cooperative," he advised Neal. Elizabeth blinked, and the next thing she knew, she was standing next to the Frenchman with his arm around her.

"Now, please answer my question," Davin said. Elizabeth stood stiffly next to him, her eyes on Neal. Fear was bubbling up inside of her stomach, but she pressed it down quickly.

Neal spoke in an even tone, meeting Elizabeth's eyes for a moment before looking back at Davin. "They don't know anything about you, specifically. They know that a group of thieves has robbed multiple museums, and that before every heist, these lovely women visit that museum. So they sent us to find the connection."

Davin smiled coolly. "Much better." He gave Elizabeth a small squeeze before continuing. Elizabeth could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she fought to keep her breathing even. His hand was resting firmly on her hip and he was just too _close_ and...

Neal caught her eyes again and she bit the end of her tongue, exhaling through her nose. _It's going to be okay, _she told herself. _Nothing's going to happen. _

"I think, one more question for now. Is the FBI looking for you?"

Neal didn't hesitate this time. "You bet."

Elizabeth saw Davin's face harden slightly out of the corner of her eye, and his grip on her tightened.

"Well, they're not going to find us," he assured them. "You don't need to worry about that." He touched Elizabeth's cheek before pushing her away and she suppressed a shiver. Rachelle reached out and grabbed her hand, both of them standing near the wall.

"Colette will stay with you to keep you company," Davin said dismissively. "I have business to attend to, I will be back in a few hours."

The slamming door echoed across the room.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews last chapter! I still need to reply to most of them... *sighs* But yeah, here's chapter fifteen. I'm not sure how much is left, exactly. Depends on how cooperative the characters are. I hope this is satisfactory. I LOVED Burke's Seven, it was great._

When Peter awoke, he found that it was already nearly one. Cursing at time lost, he stood, admittedly feeling much better than he had before sleeping. He straightened the bed half-heartedly and made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Within twenty minutes, he'd wolfed down some cereal and was back in his Taurus. If Hughes protested Peter being back a bit before two, Peter was not holding himself responsible for any words exchanged.

He was going to find his wife and his partner.

Jones met him almost as soon as he walked into the building, offering a few words of reassurance. Apparently they were still in the dark as to where Neal and Elizabeth had been taken, but a young museum employee had seen them leaving. Jones gave Peter a bit of information and said that she a was waiting in one of the conference rooms.

"I"ll talk to her," Peter said.

"Peter-" Jones began, but stopped. Peter nodded to the man and ascended the stairs to the conference room. The witness was waiting silently at the table, her expression apprehensive. Peter guessed her to be around twenty-five.

"Hello," he said in a tone that he hoped would not startle her.

It did. With a small jump, she looked up at him. "Hi," she replied, giving a small smile.

"I'm Agent Burke," he said, taking a seat across from her. "I'm here to talk to you about what you saw yesterday."

"I'm Michelle. Michelle Smith," she said, brushing a small piece of brown hair behind her ears. "Uhm... What do you need to know?"

"We'll start with the basics," Peter said. "I know you may have already been asked some of these questions, but I have to get a clear picture of things in my head."

"It's fine," Michelle said quietly, fiddling with the edge of her glasses.

"What time was it, exactly?" Peter asked, pulling out a pen and paper.

"Uhm... About two. Maybe two fifteen."

Peter scribbled down the time, nodding. That fit with everything they'd been told before. "And which door of the museum did you say the, err, _painters _left through?"

"The northwest service entrance," Michelle said. "They had all the supplies painters should have."

"Was this woman with them?" Peter asked, holding up a photograph of Elizabeth. Slowly, Michelle shook her head. She also said no to Neal and continued to shake her head until they got to the last woman in the stack of pictures.

"Yes," she said, surprising Peter. "She was there."

Peter read the name on the back. _Colette Maundre. _

"Would you be able to identify the men she was with if you saw them again?" Peter's words came out quickly as hope trickled back into his mind. It was a start.

Michelle nodded carefully. "I think so," she said.

"Alright," Peter said. "I'm... I'm going to send in another Agent and he's going to go through some faces with you."

"Okay." Michelle brushed the strand of hair back again.

Peter stood and gestured for a newer agent to come upstairs. "Go through the security tapes from one thirty PM to two thirty PM yesterday," he said. "Especially focus on the northwest service entrance. See if she can pick out this woman and the men she's with." He handed the agent the photograph of Colette and turned to go.

Michelle was going to be the key to getting them back.

She had to be.

xxxxx

Neal watched Colette visibly relax after Davin left the room. She wasn't _actually_ relaxed, still, far from it. But it was a difference from when her brother had been present. Colette, however, wasn't on the forefront of Neal's mind. Quickly, he reached out to Elle and set a hand on her arm.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" He murmured. "Did he hurt you?"

Elizabeth shook her head, presenting him with a small smile. "I'm fine," she said. "Just... glad he's gone."

For another moment, he looked at her appraisingly, deciding to accept the answer for the moment, though it was obviously untrue. "I'm sorry," he said. All... all of this is my fault, I-"

"Neal," Elizabeth said, looking for all the world like an exasperated mother. "I will not have you sinking into blame at this point of things. It'll just make things harder for everybody."

Neal closed his mouth, nodding slowly. "What should I do then?" He asked. Elizabeth paused for a moment, then sat down.

"Everybody come here," she urged in a gently commanding voice. After a moment, the slightly shell-shocked group moved together. Neal sat on Elizabeth's left and Rachelle on her right, with the others forming a circle around them. Only Colette didn't sit, until Neal nodded to the space next to him. Warily, she came to join them.

"What?" Lea asked curtly. Her sentiments were apparently echoed by several of the others.

Elizabeth looked at her coolly. "I'd think you'd be a bit more concerned, seeing as this involves all of your lives."

"I'm interested," Winona said mildly. "What are you two planning?"

"We have the one option, but we need a backup plan still. Just in case." Neal shrugged slightly, his reassuring smile firmly in place.

"And we're supposed to make it in front of her?" May looked at Colette disdainfully. "Not likely."

"I'd think you would be a bit more understanding toward your friend," Elizabeth said reprovingly. "She doesn't want to be here anymore than you do."

"No?" Tiffany raised an eyebrow questioningly. "It seems like she has a lot more choice than we do."

"No, I don't," Colette said quietly. "I cannot leave, not if I want to keep Davin appeased."

"And that's rather necessary," Neal said, nodding as he sat up straighter to keep pressure off his abdomen. "So, it looks like we all have a common goal."

"What's that?" May asked.

"We have to get out of here, obviously," Rachelle said, "and with everybody alright, too."

Neal gave a small smile. "That's a very nice way of putting it," he said. "Exactly what I was trying to say."

Rachelle smiled back, a little, bright grin, and Neal honestly felt a tiny bit better. _Optimism, remember?_

Colette, fiddling with the edge of her dress, looked up. "I promise I'm not going to... to out any of you to my brother," she said. "And if you have a plan, I would like to help you."

"How can we trust you after you lied to us?" Lea demanded. "For such a long time, everything was a lie."

"I didn't want to lie," Colette almost whispered. From the sound of her voice, Neal guessed she was afraid she'd cry if she spoke louder. "But I had to."

"Let's focus on the more pressing issues," Neal said, putting up one hand. "I believe Colette, and for the moment, that's just going to have to be good enough." Nobody made any moves to object, so Neal continued, "From our height off the ground, I'm guessing this floor is probably the third."

"You're right," Colette agreed. "And... the second floor is where Davin stays and keeps everything."

"What about security?" Neal asked. He set a hand on top of Elizabeth's as he spoke, and he could feel that her fingers were still shaking slightly. Anger filled his mind as he continued to speak evenly to Colette. Elizabeth shouldn't have had to deal with all of this. She was too good for this, for all of this. And he'd broken his promise to Peter... She wasn't safe here.

"He doesn't have... alarms, or anything like that," Colette said. "He tries to keep all suspicion away from the house. But he has some of his associates and a few guards. If you were trying to get to the door, you would have some trouble."

Neal nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

"What are you planning, Neal?" Rachelle asked. "Did anybody ever pick up your message?"

"I think someone did," Neal said slowly. "But like I said, there's a possibility that that will fall through. We still need to have an alternat plan."

"Oh." Rachelle nodded. "Okay."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Neal tried to work out the best way to get around the guards. "What sort of locks does he have on the doors?"

"On the front door it's just a normal lock," Colette said, hugging her knees to her chest, "but this door has a combination lock on the outside. Only he knows it."

Neal nodded, opening his eyes. "Colette," he said, keeping his tone nonthreatening. "What would get Davin to take me out of this room?"

"You'd... you'd have to make him really angry." Her voice became quieter as she continued, "It's happened before. There's another room... but it's risky."

Elizabeth leaned against him, shaking her head. "Don't do anything stupid, Neal," she said. Neal almost smiled.

How many times had he heard that?

A lot.

And how many times had he listened?

Not very many.

xxxxx

Peter carried a stack of files with him as he headed home. Hughes, not wanting a repeat of last night's stay over, had ordered Peter to at least go home to get some dinner. He'd parked his Taurus a little farther away than he generally had to, thanks to some road repair directly in front of their house. The sky was just barely beginning to darken as he neared his home, and the shadows were growing longer. He read as he walked, nearly tripping twice, but continuing to read in spite of the near-accidents.

The first time he looked up was when he was about to ascend the stairs to his door. As he did, he jumped. For reasons he couldn't begin to guess, there was a kid asleep on his front porch. He was holding a grocercy sack close to him, and had fallen asleep sideways on the cement. Peter quietly opened his front door, dropping the files inside before going back out. The boy was probably fourteen or fifteen, with sandy blonde hair and a slight frame. After deliberating for a moment, Peter gently shook his shoulder.

The boy started awake, scooting away from Peter quickly.

"Hey, easy," Peter said, holding his hands up.

The boy seemed to remember where he was and regained his composure, standing up and looking at Peter curiously. "You're Peter Burke?" He asked.

One eyebrow raised, Peter nodded. "Yes," he said. "And you are?"

"Will Jenson," the teen said. "I... well..."

"Why don't you step inside?" Peter offered, opening the door. Will seemed surprised, but nodded. He sat down uneasily on Peter's couch, seemingly self-conscious of his dusty clothing.

"You have a lovely house," he said, looking around.

"Thank you," Peter said. "I was just about to grab some food. Do you like leftover Chinese?"

Cautiously, Will nodded. "Yes, thanks."

Peter didn't know why exactly he'd invited the kid into his house, but something about him reminded Peter of Neal. Minus the blonde hair, of course. And he seemed to have a reason for coming, so there was that... Peter shook his head. He wasn't making sense anymore, even to himself.

He grabbed two containers of shrimp and noodles and brought them back into the living room. Will was looking at a picture of Elizabeth and Satchmo as a puppy. When Peter stepped back in, he jerked back his hand quickly.

"Here you go," Peter said, taking a seat across from Will.

"Thank you," Will replied, accepting the container. He took a bite and chewed for a moment, smiling faintly at the flavor.

"So, Mr. Jenson," Peter said after a few minutes, "how did you know who I was?"

"Oh." Will's eyes widened slightly as he remembered. "I, uh, I found your hat, actually."

Peter frowned. "My... hat."

"Yes sir," Will said. Gingerly, he set the takeout container on the coffee table and pulled something out of the plastic bag he'd brought. Peter started. It was one of Neal's fedoras.

Will held it out and Peter took it. "Where did you find this?" He asked, flipping it upside down. There was a note inside, clearly in Neal's handwriting.

"It was in a bush, actually," Will admitted. "About three or four miles from here."

Peter read through the note and turned it over. The Morse code took him a brief moment to decipher. He wasn't used to using it in written form.

_Peter - Elizabeth and I are with the group of women we were sent to infiltrate. We're all okay. We interrupted a heist and a man named-_

Here the writing became smudged and Peter frowned at it.

"The bush was wet from a sprinkler," Will said. "I noticed some of your note was messed up, I'm sorry."

Peter let out a breath. He looked up at the teen intently. "Could you show me where you found this?"

Will paused, confused, then nodded. "Yes, of course. If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Burke, why is it so important?"

"She's in danger," he said, nodding slowly to the picture of Elizabeth. "So is one of my other friends." He leaned forward. "Listen. Will. If you can get me to where they are, I promise you'll get that reward."

Will looked back at the picture and then nodded, his dark blue eyes serious. "I'll help you."


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I know what you're thinking. Is this chick crazy? She makes us wait over two weeks for an update, shouldn't the chapter be longer? ...The answer to both of those questions is yes. And I apologize, but I honestly had to just not write for the past couple weeks so I could get all my school and piano stuff taken care of. Believe me, it was awful. I need writing to live. But I'm here... and I will be updating every day, even if it's short. So... Yes. Carry on. Feel free to send mobs after me, I deserve it._

It was Elizabeth's turn to pace restlessly as the dreary, tense afternoon dragged on. A few hours ago, the sky had slowly darkened to cloudy gray, and a drizzle was beginning to strengthen. The cool rainy breeze rushed in through the window, which was now refusing to close, and the room was quickly becoming colder.

And Neal wouldn't tell Elizabeth what he was planning.

She _knew _he was planning something. It was Neal, for crying out loud. He was always planning something, especially when the stakes were as big as they were here. If he did something self-sacrificing and stupid... She would never forgive herself for letting him get hurt. And what about when Peter came?

(It always had to be _when_ in her mind, never "if." If meant they'd given up on him, and were assuming he'd done the same. _If_ meant no hope left.)

"Elizabeth," Neal's voice said gently. Speak of the devil.

His hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her to the wall. "You should sit down and rest. You didn't sleep properly last night."

"Neither did you," she retorted.

Neal gave a small smile. "I know. But I'd still like it if you rested."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "If you tell me what you're planning to do, then I'll rest."

Hesitating, Neal sat down and she sank down next to him. Letting out a breath, Elizabeth cast a glance around the room, her eyes settling on the far corner where the others had formed a group. They had even allowed Colette back into their circle-albeit reluctantly.

After a long moment, Neal spoke.

"It's better that you don't know," he said. "Really."

Elizabeth turned her head, capturing his eyes with hers. "Are you going to do something that could get you hurt, Neal? Or killed?"

If it was any other time, any other place, it would have been amusing to watch him fidget for a moment under her gaze. His face didn't reveal anything, his eyes were grave, but the way he shifted ever so slightly told her what she needed to know. He was.

"I've got everything under control," he assured her quietly, a small, reassuring grin being flashed her way. "Don't worry."'

"I'm afraid I can't help it," Elizabeth said, crossing her arms and letting her head fall back against the wall. "Neal, please, just wait a little longer. Peter will get here before you know it."

"What if he doesn't?" Neal asked, blue eyes cast downward. The pain behind the words made Elizabeth wince, and she wondered what else he was thinking about, besides just Peter. Then the flash of emotion was gone, and his expression was even again.

"We both know Peter," Elizabeth murmured. "He won't stop until he finds us."

"And we both know that all the tenacity in the world won't bring somebody back from the dead," Neal countered. "It's not that I don't have faith in Peter, Elle. It's just that I know from experience how hard it is to find someone that doesn't want to be found. If Peter doesn't get the message in time..." He shrugged. "Eventually Davin is going to get fed up and start hurting people. I don't want to be responsible for that when I could've stopped it."

"Neal..." Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to bring the worry under control and block out the throbbing in the back of her skull. "You don't have to take responsibility for everything, you know. Sometimes things aren't your fault."

"Well, this time it is." Neal pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and frowned. After a moment, he touched her forehead with the back of his hand and jerked it back.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, blinking sluggishly.

"You're burning up," Neal murmured, concerned. He scooped her up, ignoring her protests, and moved her to the back of the room on one of the scattered tarp/blanket things. Reluctantly, she leaned back and let out a breath.

"I think the cold and the stress must've made you sick again," the ex-con said thoughtfully. He quickly made her comfortable. "Does anything hurt?"

Elizabeth shrugged slightly, trying to suppress the tired feeling that was swooping over her. "Nope," she sighed. "Just my throat, a little, but I think I'm just-" she yawned. "Thirsty."

Nodding, Neal brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll see what I can do. You just go to sleep."

"Don't do anything dumb," she reminded him in a stern, drowsy voice. He might've responded, but she couldn't be certain. Her eyes slid shut and she was instantly asleep.

xxxxx

Rachelle crept over next to Neal, tugging on his sleeve as he kept pacing. Neal looked down at her.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Is Elizabeth okay?" She asked. "She's not sick, is she?"

"She's okay," he said. "But yeah, she's sick. She was sick before any of this ever started, she's just gotten worse because of..." He shrugged. "Well, everything."

Rachelle nodded. "Oh. Well, if I can help, you should tell me."

Neal smiled slightly. "I will. Thank you, Rachelle."

"Mhm."

Neal watched quietly as Rachelle rejoined her companions, the six of them alternately talking and just sitting. He let out a heavy breath and stepped over to the door, listening silently for footsteps. When none sounded, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the window. It was almost time for the plan to begin, much as he regretted it.

He really hoped Peter came in time.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Okay, guys, sorry I didn't get a chapter up yesterday! I keep falling asleep when I intend to write. Also, I'm sorta tired right now, so if I've messed up any plot points, I'm sorry. Davin did already figure out who Neal and Elle really were, right? I honestly can't remember. I'm sorry to leave you guys with another cliff hanger. I realize I've been doing that a lot lately. *coughs* More like every single time. But I should have another chapter up tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest. I might be doing a Valentinesy thing, depending on how much homework I get. Thank you so much for all sticking with me, even though I've been TERRIBLE at updating regularly. I know this whole story is dedicated to dear Ang, but this chapter especially is for her, since she's super awesome and basically made my whole week._

Peter was having some difficulties of his own. He'd left Will on the couch with the rest of his meal, going to call Hughes to tell him of the new lead, but the man was already gone. Letting out a breath of frustration, he tried calling his boss's home and cell phones, but still received no answer. He had a choice to make.

It only took a split second to choose. Dialing Diana's number, he waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" She asked, voice groggy.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Peter asked.

"It's okay, I fell asleep reading a file. What's up, boss?"

Peter let out a breath before explaining. "And we need to go ASAP," he finished, "but I don't have Hughes's clearance yet.

"I'm in anyways," Diana said firmly. "I'll be at your house in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Diana," Peter said, relieved. "I know I could count on you. I'll call Jones."

"Okay. See you soon."

Diana hung up the phone and Peter smiled slightly. He was lucky to have her as a coworker-and a friend.

Jones took only a moment to answer his phone, and he sounded fully awake.

"Clinton Jones," he said. The sound of laughter in the background floated over the phone, and he could hear a smile in Jones's voice.

"Jones, it's Peter."

At his serious tone, Jones instantly became solemn. "What happened?"

"Nothing yet. But I have a solid lead on Neal. Diana's coming with me to investigate, and I-"

"I"ll be over in twenty minutes or so," Jones said. "Don't leave without me."

"I don't want to take you away from whatever you're doing," Peter said.

"It's not important," Jones asserted. "Bye, Peter. I'll be there."

"Thank you, Jones."

Peter tried calling Hughes one more time with no luck. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that whatever happened, there wouldn't be serious repercussions for him going ahead without authorization. But he couldn't wait. Not when Elizabeth was at risk, not when Neal could've already done something stupid and gotten himself hurt.

He was almost positive Neal would've done something stupid by now.

Slowly, he returned to the front room and found the boy asleep with his head on the arm of the couch. A small smile twitched across Peter's face. The way his dark blonde curls fell across his face was very reminiscent of Neal. A silent, heavy sigh echoed in Peter's mind. This had to work. They had to be okay.

Jones and Diana arrived within a few minutes of each other, and soon they were sitting on the other couch and talking in hushed voices. Peter attempted one last call to Hughes, but finally accepted that they really were going to have to do this without clearance or backup. They decided they were ready to go and Peter hovered over Will for a moment, reluctant to wake the boy up. After a moment, however, he finally tapped his shoulder once, gently.

Will was instantly sitting up and awake and looking a little bit wary, but he simply gave a small smile when he saw it was Peter.

"Are these your friends?" He asked, coughing once to clear away the sleep in his voice.

"Yes," Peter said. "And we'd appreciate it very much if you'd take us to where our other friends are now."

Raising one eyebrow slightly at Peter's tone-it sounded a bit like he thought he was talking to a five-year-old, honestly-Will nodded. "Okay. I, I'm not sure how to get there driving though. I sort of have a different route."

"How long does it take?" Peter asked, concerned. They couldn't afford delays, not with the stakes so high.

"Not long," Will assured him. "I got here pretty quickly. Or else I wouldn't have been waiting for you so long." He flashed a quick, shyly teasing grin before returning to the neutral expression of before.

"Alright then." Peter nodded. "It's all settled, then, let's go."

Peter was slightly unused to trekking around in the dark, especially through alleyways and across public parks-he found it a bit unnerving, really, even with a gun-but Will seemed confident enough, so he followed the boy without too many questions. Jones and Diana remained tight behind or next to him, both of them intent on the destination. Peter looked up at the moon a few times, watching its progress up the sky and hoping, praying, that all would be well when they finally found the others.

xxxxx

When the door finally opened, Neal was ready to jump ahead with the plan, but he decided to at least try the safe method first, to please Elizabeth (and Peter) if he ever actually saw them again.

Davin came in alone again, his Neanderthal henchmen presumably waiting outside until they needed to descend like vultures. The Frenchman leaned easily against the door frame, letting his eyes slide over the people in the room. Neal stiffened slightly as he looked at Elizabeth. She was still sleeping uneasily, tossing occasionally. Neal and Winona were the only ones awake, the rest having fallen into wary sleep.

"Your friends do not look well," Davin said, his tone quiet enough not to disturb the others. He was sort of like the gentleman criminal sometimes, but not often enough for the title to actually be given. No, his title would probably be something like "Crazy Unpredictable Manipulative Robber Slash Murderer."

Neal realized his brain was rambling, but he still hadn't answered Davin's question. Oops. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him, apparently.

"No, they don't," Neal said. "And Elizabeth is sick. Really sick." He took a small step closer, turning on his persuasive charm while keeping his voice quiet. "Please, let them all go. They're all to scared to say anything anyway. I'll stay."

Davin's eyebrow quirked. "An interesting proposal, Mr. Caffrey. But I'm afraid I can't trust that they will not decide to reveal things they should not."

"Please," Neal repeated.

Davin shook his head. "My final answer is no."

Mentally, Neal let out a breath and steeled himself. Well, he'd tried the safe way. Now on to the more-likely-to-work way.

"So I suppose you're just too scared of a few women, then?" Neal taunted, his voice still low. "Really brave when you're holding the cards, hm? But a coward when it comes to risks."

"I warn you, Caffrey," Davin said, eyes narrowing and fists clenching.

"Oh, you _warn _me," Neal said. "How terrifying. I'm sorry if I'm not terribly afraid of the man who had to bully his little sister into doing the dirty work for him." A second later, Neal's left cheek was stinging and he kept his arms resolutely at his sides. One or two more people had roused behind him, he could hear their quickened breathing. As long as Elizabeth stayed asleep, though, it would still work.

"Hold your tongue," Davin said. "Or a black eye will be the least of your troubles."

"No, I don't think I will." Neal shook his head. "I'm a bit tired of being held captive by a guy who doesn't even have the honor to fight his battles himself."

Neal found himself slammed into the door and felt a twisted chord of triumph within his chest. Yeah, he'd finally found a nerve.

"I tried to warn you, Mr. Caffrey," Davin said. "I really did."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Busy couple days, sorry for the delay... This one's extra extra short, but I shouldn't get much homework today, so I'll maybe post another tonight or tomorrow morning before school. Also, I'm not happy about the week's break in White Collar. *growls*_

Elizabeth woke slowly to the feeling of somebody poking her in the shoulder.  
"Mmmph," she said eloquently, sitting up and wincing at her dry, scratchy throat. Lea was sitting in front of her, holding out a mini, unopened water bottle.  
"Here," the woman said quietly. "I found it in the bottom of my bag. Drink it."  
Elizabeth's eyes drifted to Lea's stomach. "You should have it," she croaked.  
"I'll be fine," Lea insisted. "Come on, your fever's gotten worse. You need some."  
Slowly, Elizabeth reached out and took the water. It took an enormous amount of effort, since her arms felt something like under-cooled jello. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to get the top open, but the world was sort of blurry. She closed her eyes, breathing evenly a few times, then finally got the plastic lid to pop off. A few swallows made it past her sore throat before she put the lid back on and looked at Lea with a small smile.  
"Th-thank you," she murmured. Lea nodded.  
Looking around the room, Elizabeth saw the others sitting in a couple groups, looking more unsettled than before. Something felt off, and after a moment she realized what.  
"Neal." She looked up at Lea urgently. "Where's Neal?"  
"He's gone," Lea said softly. "Davin came in a while ago and Neal made him really angry. So he took Neal and Colette away to some other part of the house."  
Elizabeth suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She cursed mentally. Why did she have to have been asleep when it happened? She might've been able to stop it. Returning her gaze to Lea's face, she saw that the younger woman looked very pale. A terrible thought crossed her mind. "Have you... Have you been able to hear-" she coughed abruptly, several times, but Lea understood.  
"Yeah." The woman nodded, her eyes suddenly brighter than before.  
"Is it... bad?"  
Lea shrugged. "It's hard to say. I think Davin punched him right after they took him out of the room, other than that, we heard him-Neal-cry out a few times." The words were delivered in a matter-of-fact fashion that Elizabeth appreciated, since her mind was foggy enough without having to decipher roundabout comments. But Lea did seem to be upset by this, not glad.  
Elizabeth nodded. "I need to think," she whispered, feeling helpless.  
"Alright. Tell me if you need anything," Lea said.  
Elizabeth was amazed at how kind the normally irritable woman was being. Perhaps this was the side of her that her friends usually saw?  
But now was not the time to marvel at character development. Now was the time to figure out a way to get them, and more importantly, Neal, to safety.  
After giving herself a moment to muster up some more strength, Elizabeth stood shakily and stumbled over to the window. Surprised gazes followed her.  
"Elizabeth," Rachelle piped up, "should you be walking around? You're sick, aren't you?"  
"I'm fine," Elizabeth said firmly. She grabbed the edge of the window to support herself and peered outside. The sky was beginning to darken, making this the end of their, what? Second? Third? day here. The streets below were devoid of movement, there was no one to call down to, and more significantly, no Peter. She closed her eyes against the disappointment. Maybe he hadn't gotten the message after all.  
Her eyes opened quickly as she heard a noise from down below, but it was nothing but a dog. Her head felt light, and the world suddenly began to pitch sideways.  
"Whoa," somebody said as they caught her. "Careful."  
Oh. It was Rachelle. Elizabeth felt like she'd probably crush the tiny blonde, so she managed to support most of her own weight as the youngest of their party steered her back to her bed.  
"You. Rest." Rachelle looked down at her firmly. "You can't do anything if you're too sick."  
Elizabeth let out a breath. "Fine," she consented.  
Her eyes flitted around the room as she sat quietly, trying to come up with a plan that didn't end with someone dead. _  
_


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Okay. It's short. Again. But-it was less time than it's been before. And I've made a new goal to Get Things Done and Not Procrastinate, so we'll see if that helps me. Also-ohmygosh did you see the trailer for next week? It's just like the beginning premise of this story! *fangirl spazz* That's awesome, really. And this episode was GREAT. Enjoy this, though it is short, and far less than you people deserve. *shamed*_

_In. Out. In. Out. _Neal silently reminded himself to breathe, keeping the movements shallow and gradual. He rested his head on his knees in the corner, wary of any sound from outside the door. The room was dark, with no window to let in the faint moonlight he knew was shining outside.

No sounds came for some time, and Neal reluctantly decided to assess the damage done. With some difficulty he pushed himself into a standing position, hunching slightly as pain shot through his ribs. Several buttons had already been torn off his shirt, but he carefully undid the others and looked down. The only real light was a tiny sliver coming from underneath the door, and he moved slightly so that it was hitting his skin. When the light reached it, he winced at the sight.

Angry red had spread across most of his abdomen, and bruises were showing faint outlines along much of it. Letting out a labored breath, Neal fixed his shirt and touched the back of his head gingerly. He wasn't sure, but he thought it'd hit the wall at some point.

But at least he was alive, it was more than he'd expected at this point, to be perfectly honest. And perhaps now would be the perfect time to continue the plan. They would be expecting him to be completely incapacitated, and might've left him without a guard.

Moving as quickly as he could manage, he leaned against the door and listened, holding his breath. He couldn't hear anyone outside, but that didn't mean no one was there.

Praying silently to whoever or whatever was listening, Neal closed his hand around the doorknob and turned. There was a soft click and Neal exhaled in silent relief.

He opened the door slightly and peered through the crack, and, not seeing anyone, he continued through the doorway. His ribs bumped against the frame and he winced, continuing his pattern of slow, even, shallow breaths, but the pain remained at a sharp throb.

"Did you 'ear something?" A man with a strong British accent asked. Neal froze.

"Nope," another voice replied. "Now, as I was saying, we were just walking into the restaurant when..." The conversation faded away and Neal turned the corner, creeping slowly down the hall. His entire body sparked with the tension of listening and watching as he found the stairs they'd taken him down and started to ascend them. He looked up at the doorway, covered in shadow, and reached out to examine the lock.

A hand encased his wrist in a hard grip.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Davin asked. The Frenchman let out a low chuckle. "I mean, really, do you think I am stupid?"

"I hoped so," Neal said, deciding that was an appropriate answer to both questions. Davin twisted Neal's arm behind him and cuffed it to the other one, not taking care to be gentle.

"This is only a temporary measure," Davin said. "We'll find something more... escape-proof later."

_That's great, _Neal thought sarcastically. But at least he knew what sort of lock the door had now. If he could get out again, he was certain he'd be able to get it open-but that was a pretty big if, with the murderous glint in Davin's eyes taken into account.

_Yeah. I don't think he'll make it easy this time. _

Neal turned back toward the stairs, a new plan already forming in his mind, when Davin turned him quickly back to the room.

"And where do you think you are going? This was a test, one that you both passed and failed. So you see, there must be consequences." Davin unlocked the door and yanked him inside.

"Neal!" Elizabeth gasped. She looked horrified. Neal wondered vaguely exactly how bad he looked at the moment; from their expressions, he was guessing pretty bad.

"Hello, Elizabeth," he said, smiling reassuringly.

"Yes, hello," Davin agreed. He always had this condescending, sarcastic tone to his voice that Neal hated. "Now, I'm afraid that your friend here is being very stubborn, so we're going to try a new technique. You all-" he gestured at those in the room. "Are going to cooperate, and he gets to live. If not, then he doesn't."

There was a moment of silence as Davin allowed the ultimatum to sink in. "I hope this is crystal clear to everyone."

"Don't do this," Elizabeth pleaded. "You can still come out of this alright if you just turn yourself-"

"See, that counts as not cooperating," Davin said. Neal barely noticed the man's grip on his arm, so hard was he concentrating on picking the lock to the handcuffs. It was so close, he could feel it...

"If it happens again, I'm afraid I'll have to-"

_Got it. _Neal pulled his arm out and swung around, punching Davin's eye before he realized what was happening. The man stumbled backward and Neal moved to knock him unconscious, but there was suddenly a gun in his face. He heard Elizabeth coming closer and shook his head at her.

Neal unconsciously took a small step back, his hands up. The handcuffs were still hanging on his right arm, and Davin grabbed it with his free hand, giving Neal a half-appraising look.

"You just don't give up, do you?" He pulled Neal close to him, letting the gun rest against his temple. "For your sake, I hope they answer my questions." He returned his voice to normal volume.

"Any more incidents, and a bullet is going to end up right here," Davin said, tapping Neal's temple. "After that, any of you could be next."

"Don't tell him anything," Neal said as he was yanked away. "I have everything under control, just stick togeth-"

The door slammed behind them and Neal noticed for the first time that Davin had dragged Colette out with them also.

"You." Davin pointed at her with the gun. "Go and get some duct tape." The woman left quickly, shooting a furtive glance back at them.

"And now for you," Davin said. "I can see are going to have to take extra precautions here."


	20. Chapter 20

_So. Yes. Uh. I'm not feeling very coherent or healthy today, but I wanted to spit out a short (sorry!) chapter before I go to school... We'll see how this goes. And I want to finish this BEFORE the next episode. I'm. going. to. do it. I could make an Unbreakable Vow... But then I could end up dying. What do you think? But I WILL DO IT. *vows*_

_ Also, this chapter is partially from Jones's point of view, 'cause I'm tired of writing from the same ones all the time. And he's awesome. And he refers to himself as "Jones," because every time I start out with "Clinton" I switch halfway through anyways._

Jones let out a silent sigh as he followed Diana, who was following Peter, who was following a boy that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere with the location. The letter from Neal seemed to be valid, though, and Peter had a good feeling about it, so Jones was just going to trust him.

_ Although... _Jones looked ahead through the dark trees at his boss. Peter was probably desperate enough at this point to try just about anything. Hopefully this would come through, or who knew what they'd end up doing next.

"There's a deep hole up here," the kid called back in a hushed tone. "Don't fall in."

When he reached the whole, Jones skirted around it, peering inside and wincing slightly. A fall into that would've been painful. They finally emerged from the small park they'd been cutting across, and Jones watched Will look around again, moonlight glinting off the blond hair. He seemed to be very paranoid, which, considering the fact that he seemed to be from the rougher side of town, wasn't unusual.

"Alright, this way," Will said, gesturing them onward.

"Hey," Diana said, coming into step next to him. "Are you ready?"

Jones shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. Why?"

Diana mimicked his shrug. "We just need to be prepared, I guess..." Her dark eyes flitted to where Peter was quietly discussing something with Will. "We don't know what we're going to find, and if things are bad... I don't know if Peter will be able to handle it."

Jones nodded seriously. "Well... I'll be ready to help him if he needs it.

Diana smiled. "Me too. Let's just hope we don't have to."

"Jones! Diana!" Peter called from up ahead. "He thinks we're getting close."

"Coming, Boss," Diana said. She and Jones hurried to catch up with them, exchanging half-hopeful, half-apprehensive looks.

"...and we need to get past this one last street," Will was saying, "but there's a slight problem..."

"And what's that?" Peter asked, obviously getting antsy now that they were so near to finding Elizabeth and Neal.

"Almost the whole street, it's filled with really rough criminals. They have a lot of security, it'll take a long time to get through without them catching us."

"But we _can _get through?" Peter clarified.

"Yeah." Will nodded.

"Then let's go."

Jones looked up at the houses above him. Without any backup, this was going to be interesting.

xxxxx

Elizabeth bit her lip hard as she struggled not to cry. Her knees were hugged to her chest and her head down in an effort to keep anyone from talking to her, but of course, they did so anyway.

"What are we going to do now?" They worried. "Elizabeth?"

She didn't respond.

A few moments earlier there had been a sound of muted shouting, then two gunshots in rapid succession.

Hoping desperately that it had been some sort of training, or even a fight between some of Davin's henchmen, Elizabeth leaned against the door and tried to pick out words.

Footsteps rapidly approached them, and she jumped back just as the wooden door slammed open. "Your criminal friend wouldn't cooperate," Davin informed them smoothly. "I'm afraid your group is one smaller."

And he left, the small smirk on his face belying his glee at their shocked expressions.

Which left Elizabeth where she was now. She clung to the hope that it wasn't true, that Davin had only told them this to make them easier to manipulate, but it seemed more likely that he had, in fact, shot Neal. Elizabeth knew him, and she knew that he wouldn't stop trying to escape and get them all out no matter what. Some time passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours, and Elizabeth didn't move from her position.

"Elizabeth?" Rachelle asked, more quietly than the others. "Are you alright?"

"Great," she said weakly, her eyes still squeezed shut. "How about you?"

Rachelle didn't reply, just put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder for a moment before letting out a small sniffle.

This made Elizabeth stop and think. She was most likely the only one here who had an FBI agent for a husband, and therefore probably also the only one who at least sort of knew how to deal with these situations. Neal would want her to keep things under control and get them out of there.

Slowly, Elizabeth stood up, brushing a few tears away from her eyes. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, but she pushed it away and lifted her voice slightly. "Alright, listen up, here's what we have to do."

They immediately stopped murmuring amongst themselves and listened.

"It's finally dark outside, which means that at least some of the men down there are sleeping. This is going to be our best chance to get out. Does anyone have something we could use to take the hinges off the door?"

No one moved to raise there hand, but Lea fished a rock out of her back and handed it to El.

"That's all I've got," she said almost apologetically.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said, mustering a small smile. "Maybe it'll work."

She moved to strike one of the hinges with the rock, but before she could, the door opened again and Colette stepped inside.

She was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. "I'm here to help," she said.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: *guilt guilt guilt* Apparently I'm writing this from beyond the grave, since I WAY broke my vow... You guys are amazing for sticking to this._

Elizabeth just looked at Colette for a moment silently, uncertain if she'd heard the woman correctly. "What?"

"I'm here to help you get out," Colette repeated, her voice a little stronger. "But we have to go now."

"Oh." The words finally registered. "_Oh. _Are you sure it's safe?"

"As safe as it is ever going to be," Colette murmured. "They're all asleep. Well, drunk, actually."

"Well, then, it's a good time to go." Elle turned to the others. "Hey. Colette here has a way for us to get out. But we're going to have to be quick, and we're going to have to be very quiet. Understand?"

There were hasty nods as they exchanged hopeful glances. "Alright."

"Come on," Colette said quietly. She waited until they were all out of the room to close the door, walking on the edges of the stairs to keep them from creaking. Elizabeth looked at the silent doors and tapped Colette on the shoulder.

"Where were they keeping Neal?" She asked, biting the inside of her cheek.

Colette looked at Elizabeth appraisingly before answering. "The last one on the left. But... I don't think you should go-"

Elizabeth had walked away before Colette even finished speaking. The door was locked from the outside and she swiftly pulled it open, wincing sharply when the smell of blood hit her nose. Reluctantly, she flicked on the light and couldn't restrain a gasp. There were bloodstains on all four walls, though many of them were obviously too old to be Neal's. Some of them, though, were all too fresh for Elizabeth's liking.

Neal himself was lying in the corner, sprawled eagle on the floor and very pale. Elizabeth stepped around the small puddle of blood, fearing for a moment that he really _was _dead. But there was a faint twitching behind his eyelids and a tiny fluttering in his chest that testified to the contrary. She breathed a sigh of relief; though he was in bad shape, he was blessedly alive.

But where was the blood coming from?

The smell and sight of it made her head spin more than it already had been, but she forced herself to move his arm and shirt enough to find the source. She heard footsteps coming into the room, and hoped that it was Colette and the others rather than Davin, but didn't allow her focus to be moved from Neal. After a few seconds, she found it; a short, deep gash.

"Lea," she breathed. "Please tell me you have some sort of fabric in that magic purse of yours."

Lea inched over and handed Elizabeth something before hurrying away, wincing. Elizabeth pressed the handful of fabric under Neal's shirt without hesitation, pulling his tie off and using that to secure the makeshift bandage.

Slowly, Elizabeth worked one arm underneath the man and hoisted him to his feet, struggling to remain standing while also supporting Neal.

Suddenly some of the weight was gone, and she looked over to see Colette on Neal's other side, his right arm slung over her shoulder.

"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured. The two of them keeping Neal upright, they made it back to the group and started the precarious journey to the front door.

"Shh," Winona said abruptly when they were about halfway down the stairs. "I hear something." They all froze immediately, and there were several tense seconds until they concluded that no one was after them.

"We need to hurry," Colette whispered. "There's only so long they will stay unconscious, even drunk."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs was harder than Elizabeth would've guessed; Neal only grew heavier as time went on. Finally, they were back on flat ground. A small moan came from her side and Elizabeth looked over to see Neal's eyelids flutter open sluggishly.

"Lisbeth?" He tried to focus on her and failed. "Where are we?"

"Shh," she prompted. "We're getting away. Can you walk now?"

Neal considered this. "Maybe," he said in a softer voice. He let go of Colette and kept part of his weight on Elizabeth for a moment, cringing slightly. "Yeah," he said breathlessly. "I can walk."

Even with him leaning on her from time to time, moving was much faster when they weren't dragging an unconscious man.

They were only about ten yards from the door when a bang came from upstairs.

"They got out!" Somebody shouted.

xxxxx

Peter was following Will studiously, trying not to focus on the fact that they were in a "rough neighborhood." As long as nothing happened that kept him from getting to Neal and Elizabeth as soon as possible, he couldn't have cared less.

"You're walking really loudly," Will told them quietly, obviously a little exasperated. "Most of these people are light sleepers."

"Sorry," Jones said apologetically. Diana just frowned slightly. Will nodded.

"Just be careful," he prompted. He continued to weave his way through the haphazard maze of sheds, houses, and cars. Every once in a while they even came near a dog, and that was when things were really exciting.

"We're almost out," Will said. Peter nodded, relieved. Almost out meant closer to almost there, and that was his ultimate goal.

Peter's pocket vibrated and he jumped, knocking a can askew. Diana reached out and grabbed it before it hit the ground.

"Nice," he told her. Carefully, he pulled out his phone. "Hello?"

"Suit, it's me. Any news on Neal? How's the undercover mission going?"

Peter was silent for a moment, not quite sure what to say as he continued to trail the youth in front of him.

"He's not dead, is he? I told you this was a terrible idea. I knew something bad was-"

"Mozzie," Peter interrupted. "He's not dead. At least I don't think so. He's missing. They both are. But we're getting close to finding them."

"Missing?" Mozzie demanded hotly. "How long have you known this for, suit? Why wasn't I informed? We both know I have access to-"

"I haven't known for long," Peter said. "Like I said, we're getting close to them, but this is a really bad time for me to talk."

"Bad time," Mozzie repeated with a disdainful snort. "Well, you'd better not get killed while trying to find him, Suit."

"I'll be careful, Mozzie," Peter promised. "And I'll call you as soon as he's safe."

"You'd better."

The line went dead and Peter put the phone away.

"Sorry," Peter told Will.

"It's okay," Will said, exhaling. "We just need to be quiet now. This is probably the worst part. The guy over there-" he pointed carefully to a house about fifteen yards away. "Has an army of dogs. Big ones. And they're easy to wake up."

"You know this how?" Peter asked.

Will blinked up at him, a hint of, _"Really? Now?" _in the look.

"Sorry," Peter said again. " Jones, Diana, did you catch the warning?"

"Yeah, boss," Diana said. "Let's just get through this dump."

The four of them moved along sidewalk as long as they could, but eventually they were forced onto grass and dirt again, which made it much easier to stumble. There were several near misses, but luckily both injury and loud noises were avoided.

As they passed the house Will had indicated, Peter bit the inside of his cheek. Please let this work, he pleaded mentally. Don't let anything go wrong.

Several large, black forms were visible through a chain link fence, which Will quickly scaled. It took a bit more effort for the FBI Agents to get over, but after a few stressful moments, they were all once again standing on the same side. Will put a finger to his lips and forged a path through the grass, which was surprisingly well-kept.

When they were finally out of the yard, Peter released a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Alright," Will said quietly. "We'll get there in about seven minutes, maybe ten."

"Good," Peter said. "Listen, Will, once we get there, I want you to stay far away. Things could get ugly."

Will nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

"Promise me," Peter prompted.

"I promise?" Will said, brushing a piece of hair out of his eyes. "I'll stay well away from any gunfire."

"Thank you," Peter said.

Diana and Jones were both next to him, and Peter gave them both serious looks. "You two both be careful. I don't want any injuries if we can help it."

"You got it," Jones said. He and Diana exchanged a look that Peter couldn't quite decipher, but he decided not to dwell on it.

About three minutes later, Peter's phone vibrated again. He answered it without checking the number.

"Look, Moz, I told you-"

"Burke," Hughes's voice cut over his. "Why've you been calling? Has there been a development in the search?"

"You... could say that," Peter said. "We got a lead, we're getting close to their location."

"You're what?" Hughes demanded. "You did not get clearance for that, Peter."

"That's why I was calling," Peter said. "Sir, we can't afford to wait, they-"

"I understand the urgency of the situation, Burke," Hughes said, "but I can't risk your life in the process. Give me your location and a team will be there shortly."

Looking at the street signs, Peter quickly gave Hughes the address and told him of the need to be quiet.

"Thank you," Hughes said. "Just hang tight until they get to you."

Peter was silent for a moment, looking from Jones and Diana to Will, then up at the street ahead of them. "I'm sorry, sir, I hope you understand why I can't do that."

"Burke-"

Peter ended the call and put the phone away, exhaling. Well, there would certainly be consequences for that. But Neal and Elle were more important.

"Okay, Will. Take us the rest of the way."


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: So, I'm currently about one chapter away from the end; hopefully I can finish it up. I'm going to be in the car for the next seven hours with nothing to do but write, so I'd say it's a pretty safe bet. :) Sorry for another cliff hanger. I love you all, thanks for putting up with me! If there are any big problems, shoot me a review! I'm not entirely sure how "quality" this is._

_"You too."  
_

Neal's mind was still sort of fogged, but he was definitely able to register that what was happening was bad; very, very bad. Elizabeth's grip on his arm tightened and he winced as the fabric pulled tight across his chest.

"Neal," she said, her voice quiet but urgent. "Neal, are you going to be able to open the door?"

"I'm not sure," he said, irritated that his words slurred slightly. "I'll try."

"Why does the front door lock from the outside?" Rachelle asked curiously. Neal's focus was split between the sound of continued shouting and doors slamming upstairs, the frightened whispers behind him, and the doorknob that didn't seem to want to hold still.

"Does anyone have a hairpin?" Neal asked, biting the inside of his cheek against a fresh flash of pain.

"Here," Colette said, pulling one out of her hair. Neal took it and knelt down, starting to work on getting it open.

"It's not actually the front door," Colette explained quickly to Rachelle. There's a space between this door and the front one, this one is just a precaution."

"Oh."

Upstairs, someone cursed loudly. "You and you, go check downstairs. Now!"

"Neal," Elizabeth said, fear creeping into her voice.

"Almost got it," he said, twisting the small metal pin in the lock.

Footsteps echoed down the steps and neared them.

"Just one second more, and..." There was a barely audible click, and Neal sighed in relief.

"There they are!" A voice called.

"Everybody, through here," Elizabeth directed. She helped Neal back to his feet and they all stumbled through the doorway. As Colette had said, there was a small hallway between the two doors. Neal pushed the first door closed and locked it again.

"Is everyone okay?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly. There were a few nods, and Colette reached out to open the front door.

"Where's the key?" One of the people outside the first door demanded.

"I thought you had it."

Several shots rang out as the henchmen put bullets through the door in an effort to stop their escape. The front door swung open and they rushed through it, closing it behind them. Neal saw that this was the high-tech loch Colette had referred to, and was grateful he hadn't been trying to sneak _in._

"Where are we supposed to go now?" Rachelle asked fearfully looking at the street in front of them.

"Away from here," Winona said. "Then we can decide everything else."

"Follow me," Colette said quickly. Neal blinked hard, trying to distinguish which steps were real and which were just the result of his blurring vision.

""Neal?" Elizabeth asked, slipping his arm over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, nodding. She supported him as they made their way down the street. Colette led them to a small, dilapidated house less than a half a block away. They could hear slightly muffled shouts from the house they'd fled.

Colette frowned slightly as they ducked behind a wooden fence. "They are going to wake up the wrong people if they continue on like that," she said worriedly.

"Wouldn't that be good for us, though, if they have something else keeping the m busy/" May snapped.

"No," Colette said simply. No one asked any further questions on the matter. Neal's hands dug into the cold dirt as he leaned against the wood trying to even out his breathing.

"How long can we stay here?" Lea asked.

"Not long." Colette brushed leaves off her shoulder. "The people who lived here moved out about a week ago, but we should not stay so near to Davin for more than a few minutes."

"Do you think they still have a land line?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"You can check," Colette said, sounding doubtful. "Just be quiet."

"I'll go," Rachelle volunteered, and before anyone could object, she'd disappeared around the corner of the house.

"The shouting's stopped," Tiffany breathed..

Neal let out a tight breath. "That's because they don't want us to know they're coming."

People stiffened around him, and he guessed that probably wasn't the most comforting thing he could've said-it was true, though. Carefully, he leaned back further against the fence and peered down at his chest, hands quivering slightly. The blood was already beginning to soak through Elizabeth's makeshift bandage.

"What exactly happened?" Elizabeth asked softly from Neal's side.

"He was trying to get me to talk," Neal said, shrugging. "Wanted to know more things about the FBI, I think. It's sort of a blur. But when I wouldn't tell him anything, he fired a couple rounds into the wall."

"Why?" Elizabeth brushed a curl out of Neal's face.

Neal inhaled and exhaled, restraining a wince at the tightening in his chest. "Uh, I guess to scare me. But it didn't work, so I ended up getting stabbed."

"I'm..." Elizabeth said, her face concerned. "I'm sorry. I know that it doesn't help, but I am."

Neal let out a heavy breath. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he said. "I got you into all this in the first place, it's all my-"

"Neal Caffrey, if you say this was your fault, I swear I will never make you pumpkin pie again." The threat was only half in jest. "We've been over this before."

"Fine," Neal said, slightly under his breath. He clenched his teeth for a moment, and pulled himself to a half-standing position. "Is everyone else alright? No injuries?"

He was assured by nods that everyone had gotten out relatively unscathed. Just before he could suggest that they move toward the house, Rachelle came back around the corner, her blonde hair glowing eerily in the moonlight.

"There's a phone," she said with hushed excitement. "It's sort of broken, but maybe one of you could get it to work?"

"We can certainly try," Elizabeth said authoritatively. "Come on." She waved them on and Neal walked by her closely.

"You think this will work?" He asked her.

"I hope it will," she replied, looking determined. A flash of admiration came over Neal. So many women would've been completely crushed by everything that had gone on over the past few weeks, but Elizabeth had held firm through it all. They walked quickly (as quickly as Neal could, anyway) toward the house, eager to find a possible way out of everything.

Rachelle's voice came from up ahead. "Be careful, there's a-"

Elizabeth suddenly cried out and stumbled to the ground.

"A bar..." Rachelle finished. She hovered anxiously over the fallen woman. "Elizabeth? Are you alright?"

Elizabeth didn't respond right away and Neal's forehead creased in concern as he bent down carefully. "Elle?" She appeared to have hit her head on the door frame on her way down as well.

Finally, she opened her eyes and slowly. "Mmm." The noise was one of pain. "I'm okay."

Neal grabbed her hand, ignoring the gray that crept in on the edges of his vision, and helped pull Elle to her feet. There was a gash where the slightly jagged metal had hit her, just above her left eyebrow.

"Look at me," holding her shoulders gently. She blinked up at him, and he wiped a smear of blood away before it fell into her eye. "We'll need to watch you for a concussion. Are you dizzy?"

"I'm okay," she said quietly. "Let's just go inside."

The two of them must've been quite the picture, Neal stumbling and lightheaded, Elizabeth blinking and trying to ignore the new pain in her head. Eventually, they made it to the room where Rachelle had located a phone. There were also, fortunately enough, two beat-up couches that the owners had probably deemed unworthy of moving. Neal quickly steered Elizabeth to one of them.

"Sit here," he ordered her.

"But I need to-"

"I'll take care of it," he said seriously. "You just rest."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. Neal turned away, hiding his concern. Her words were slurring slightly, and that was pretty much a sure sign that something was wrong. He wanted to get her checked out by a doctor, but that wasn't exactly feasible at the moment, so he supposed he'd have to figure something out. "Rachelle," he said quietly, "will you show me where the phone is?"

"Yeah." Rachelle nodded, rising from the couch and leading him through the kitchen to a corner. While he fiddled with the phone-which was indeed rather broken-she poked around through the cupboards in the darkness.

"I think this might work," Neal mumbled to himself. He quickly dialed Peter's number and held the phone to his ear, teeth clenched. If this didn't work...

_"_You've reached Peter Burke. Please leave a message and I'll return your call."

Neal cursed mentally. He started to speak, but there was a clicking noise and the phone cut to static.

"It didn't work?" Rachelle asked, her blue eyes concerned.

"Not really," Neal said. "But it was worth a shot. We can try again soon, if we're still here."

"I found crackers," she said timidly, as if trying to placate him.

He smiled for her benefit. "That's good. Go share them with the others, would you?"

"Alright," she said, nodding and walking away.

Neal rested his hands on the edge of the linoleum counter top, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. The sharp stabbing sensation in his chest wasn't really getting better or worse, it was just a long, continual ache. When he inhaled too deeply, though, it felt strange, as if something was wrong inside his chest. Hopefully the knife hadn't punctured a lung or anything.

Davin_ had _twisted it rather violently, so it was a definite possibility.

There was probably something unhealthy about how clinically he was thinking about everything that was happening, but it was the only way he could deal with it that wouldn't lead to a complete breakdown, so that was that.

Wow. Even his _thoughts _were rambley. Something was definitely wrong.

"Uh-Neal?" A concerned call came from the other room and Neal hurried in, his game face back in place.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I'm pretty sure they just went inside the house next door," Lea said, one arm hugging her stomach gently as she looked out the window. The dark silhouette of the house suddenly looked ominous. "Somebody was yelling, now it's just quiet."

"We have to get out of here then," Neal said, blinking quickly to clear his vision again. He straightened and addressed the room quietly. "It's time to keep going. Once we can get out of this neighborhood, we'll stop and ask someone if we can use their phone. Alright?"

"S-sounds good," Elle murmured. He slung her arm around his shoulder and helped her up.

"Let me make sure everything's clear before we go out," Neal said. "If I'm not back in about thirty seconds, I want you all to slip out the back and don't stop."

"Okay." The word was spoken quietly; everyone could see the seriousness of the situation now and no one was mocking.

Neal left Elizabeth a few yards away from the front door in an armchair, opening the door slowly to peer outside. No sooner than he'd swung it open the first few feet, he found himself caught in an iron grasp.

"Davin," the man holding him hissed loudly. "We found 'im."

Quick footsteps echoed across the pavement as several more people were in front of him. "Excellent," Davin said. "Now, Mr. Caffrey, where are the others?"

Neal winced as pressure was applied to his chest. "They're long gone. I made them leave me behind, I... I couldn't keep up."

Davin tutted lightly. "Lying just makes things worse in the end. Check the house," he ordered. Four of his men went inside.

A tense moment passed, and Neal heard a cry of, "Don't stop, Rachelle!" He closed his eyes briefly, hoping that they'd gotten away. His hopes were dashed when the men returned, holding everyone but Elizabeth and Rachelle.

"One of them's inside still," the tallest man said. "She's not going anywhere. The little blonde one got away."

"What do you mean, got away?" Davin demanded, obviously struggling not to raise his voice.

"She was too fast, sir," a shorter henchman responded hesitantly. He was clutching Lea and Tiffany, apparently having zip tied their hands behind them. Any struggling was clearly in vain.

Davin's lips pressed into a tight line. "Very well," he growled. "Let's get back to the house."

One of two holding onto Neal went in to retrieve Elle.

"Don't try anything, Mr. Caffrey," Davin said. "Or you know what'll happen." Neal did know-was painfully aware, in fact, and he wasn't about to risk anyone else getting hurt.

"Put them back up in the attic," Davin ordered when they reached the house. "And stand guard this time."

xxxxx

Peter followed Will closely as they walked through the small, empty field- the last before the street he'd been leading them to.

"We're almost there," the boy said quietly. "Stay quiet and keep your eyes open."

"Alright," Peter said. This was certainly a different side to the boy than he'd seen in the living room; here, he was knew what he was doing, and his confidence reflected that.

Jones and Diana flanked him as they neared their destination. The sound of their shoes on the grass was uncomfortably loud, and Peter tried in vain to step more quietly. Will seemed practically to float along the ground.

"Stop," Will hissed suddenly, throwing an arm out. Peter halted so quickly that Jones and Diana bumped against him. "Someone's coming."

"What?" Diana asked. "I don't see anybody."

They squinted into the darkness for a moment more and suddenly what Will had noticed became apparent. A pale figure was running at breakneck speed, stumbling but never stopping. She got about ten feet away before she actually noticed them and she froze.

_Why does she look familiar? _Peter wondered.

"H-hello?" The young woman stuttered and waved cautiously.

Her long hair was in a mess down her back, but Peter looked at her face and remembered. "You're... You were with Neal and Elizabeth. Rachel?"

The girl's eyes flooded with relief. "Rachelle," she said, her breathing labored. "Wh-who are you?"

"I'm Agent Peter Burke," he said. Rachelle took a few more steps forward, still wary.

"So you're Elizabeth's real husband, then?" She asked.

Peter was momentarily surprised that Neal had been found out, but he nodded. "Yes."

Rachelle's eyes flooded with tears and Peter caught her as she almost fell to the ground. "They-he..."

"What happened?" Peter asked, dismayed.

"We were so close to getting away," she sobbed. "But he caught us again. I don't know if they're okay. I was the only one who got away."

Peter patted her on the back awkwardly. "Who is _he_?"

Rachelle sniffled, gaining control of herself once more. "D-Davin Maundre," she said. "Colette's brother. We didn't know, he was using her to get money."

Gently, Peter put a hand on each of Rachelle's shoulders and looked down at her. "We're going to go help them, don't worry," he said. "But you can't come all the way there with us."

Peter's eyes flitted to Will and a look of understanding passed between them.

The short, blonde boy tapped Rachelle on the shoulder, assuming a very different persona.

"I'm William Dalenci," he said, extending his hand and giving a gently encouraging smile. "You can call me Will."

"I'm Rachelle Whitt," Rachelle whispered, shaking his hand. He closed his around hers and kept a firm hold on it, walking her with him and giving a Peter a quick nod that said to follow.

"We have to be quiet," he told her, as he kept a steady stream of unimportant conversation going. "They're going to go get your friends back, but we have to wait here."

"Okay," Rachelle agreed slowly. It was a funny picture; Rachelle was taller than Will, if only just, but he was taking the role of adult. He seemed to know exactly how to handle the situation, which made Peter wonder how often he'd had to deal with similar ones.

Will pointed to a tall, dark house across the street, and Peter nodded his understanding. Rachelle and Will went to a small grove of trees and Will sat down with her on the grass, continuing the hushed words.

Jones shook his head bemusedly. "He's sort of like a little blonde Neal," he quipped. Peter allowed himself a small smile, then the seriousness set in.

"How are we gonna handle this?" Diana asked.

Peter thought for a moment before nodding. "I think I know." Quickly, he conveyed his plan to the others, and they agreed.

"Good luck," he said.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Okay, um, here's this... One month later. *headdesk* I'm sorry guys. School just keeps me so busy. This is why I prewrite... Anyway, this is the last chapter, I just have the epilogue and that's about half-done, so I'm tentatively saying I'll post it Saturday. Good luck with your Thursdays, I'd love any feedback on this. I'm pretty sure the ending is incredibly cheesy, so have fun._

Diana grumbled slightly as Jones picked her up. She went limp and waited as he hurried the rest of the way across the street and up to the front door.

"This should be interesting," he said. His voice vibrated against the side of her head.

"Yeah," she murmured. Jones stepped to the door and shifted her so that he could use his hand to ring the doorbell.

"That's a pretty intense lock," Jones commented. After a few moments, the door finally swung open.

"Yes?" A slightly irritated looking man asked.

"Please, my wife is hurt. D-Do you have a phone? I need to call someone to come get us."

Jones was a pretty good actor, Diana decided. She would've bought it, if she hadn't already known the truth.

"Let him in," someone said from inside.

"Okay, come in," the man in front of them said. "Just follow me."

"Thank you," Jones said, relieved.

"Hello," a French-accented voice said as they stepped through the house. "What brings you to this neighborhood?"

"We were in a cab," Jones said, his voice still just hurried enough to lend an air of worry. "We couldn't pay to go any farther. We're trying to get to Brooklyn."

"What happened to your wife?"

"I-I'm not sure," Jones said. "We were walking, and she just... collapsed."

"Is there someone you could call?" The Frenchman seemed to have a lot of questions.

"My sister lives not too far away," Jones said. "I don't have a phone, though. We couldn't afford one anymore, with the economy."

"You're welcome to use mine," he said. "I am Davin. Please, set your wife down on the couch and come with me."

"Alright," Jones said gratefully.

Diana kept herself carefully limp as Jones laid her down on the couch, more than a little uneasy. There was so much that could go wrong with this plan, but they didn't really have much other choice.

"Now, Mr..."

"Hughes," Jones supplied, moving a piece of Diana's hair out of her face before stepping away.

"Mr. Hughes," Davin said agreeably. "My phone is through here, follow me."

"Okay," Jones murmured. "Thank you."

"No trouble at all," Davin said. "All of you, please make sure you've fixed that pipe in the attic before I get back."

Diana frowned internally. This was the man who was keeping people prisoner? He sounded nice.

She waited until she was completely certain the room was empty before standing. The room was nothing like what she'd been expecting; it was clean and actually well-decorated.

They hadn't locked her in, thankfully, and she quickly slipped out and made her way back to the front door. It took her a moment to figure out exactly where they'd been walking when Jones was carrying her, but she found it soon enough. There was a small door she hadn't noticed at first; it was locked from the outside. Frowning, she pulled a hairpin out and worked at the lock for a moment.

Sometimes it came in handy to have had an unconventional upbringing.

"Diana," Peter greeted quietly when she opened the front door. "Where's Jones?"

"He's using their phone. I think he's calling Christie."

Peter nodded. "Great. Let's go."

Diana led him back through, making sure not to lock the door back. If they were trying to get out, they couldn't afford to waste time opening it.

"I think they're upstairs," Diana said quietly. "The man in charge, Davin, sent several others to take care of something in the attic."

"Let's get up there then," Peter said. Diana could see how on-edge he was. This wasn't just any rescue; this was his wife, and his consultant. She was pretty certain they were the most important people in his life.

It took a few tries to find a door that led to the stairs, and when they did it was apparent that there were several smaller levels within the house.

"The attic would be at the very top," Diana said quietly. "So let's try up there."

"Sounds good," Peter said. They both had their weapons out as they gingerly ascended the stairs.

When they'd reached the top of the first flight of stairs, Peter stiffened. "Do you hear that?" He asked.

"Hear what?" Diana asked.

"Listen," Peter hissed, standing silently for a moment. Diana strained to catch whatever it was that Peter was hearing. After a pause, she heard it. A muted cry, and someone shouting.

"That sounded like Elizabeth," Peter said, his face paling.

Diana set a hand on the older agent's shoulder briefly. "We're going to get them all out, Peter," she said. "Don't worry."

Peter tried to force a smile, failing miserably. Diana's heart gave a painful squeeze; this hadn't been easy for any of them, but it had certainly been hardest on Peter.

They doubled their pace and their vigilance as they walked up to the next level. The lights were all out, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Diana saw a small set of stairs leading to a door, and gently prodded Peter in the side.

"Stop it!" A shrill voice shouted. "Just leave them alone!" Came from the room.

Quickly, he followed her gaze and nodded.

He signaled for her to open the door and they'd go in ready for a confrontation. She closed one hand on the doorknob and let out a tiny breath of relief when it twisted. For a brief second, she locked eyes with Peter and he nodded almost imperceptibly. With one fluid motion, she swung the door open and both she and Peter were inside the room.

There were three men within, and they all reached for guns the second they saw who had entered.

"Stop," Peter commanded. "Hands where I can see them, now."

Two of them complied immediately, but the last man pulled out his gun anyway.

"Drop it, hotshot," Diana said. She trained her weapon on his chest and and after a moment he reluctantly set down the weapon. "Now get theirs and kick them across the room."

He did so quickly and Diana addressed the women sitting down against the wall. "Any of you know to use a gun?" She asked, keeping her voice gentle.

A tall, dark-haired woman and a short pale one raised their hands. Diana couldn't quite place their names, but she recognized them from the file.

"Come get some," she said. "And keep them on these two."

They rose timidly and each picked up a firearm. Diana waited to make sure they were satisfactorily aimed before looking at Peter. His eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, who was lying down a few feet to their left. Diana knew it was taking all of his self-control not to run directly over to her.

"I'm going to restrain you," she told the three men across from them. As she stepped forward, slipping her gun back into its holster to free her hands, she saw the looks of relief across the faces of the women behind them.

_I'm so glad we found them, _she thought. It might have been too late.

She cuffed the first man and zip-tied the second, and as he stepped aside she finally saw Neal.

_Oh. _

He was on the ground with his head resting against his knees, seemingly unresponsive. The only testament to his continued life was the slight rising and falling of his back. Quickly pulling the third man's arms behind his back and securing them, she looked at them, her no-nonsense expression firmly in place.

"I want you against that wall on the floor, now," she ordered. They moved grudgingly, none of them speaking a word of protest.

"Peter-" Diana called, but he was already next to Elizabeth. Slowly, she bent down next to Neal and touched his shoulder. He didn't react, and she bit her lip, placing a head gently on his forehead and lifting. "Neal?" She asked quietly.

The man's eyelids fluttered slightly and he murmured something that might have been "Peter."

"Who are you?" A timid voice asked.

"Not that we're not happy you saved us," another added.

"I'm Agent Diana Lancing," she said. "This is Agent Peter Burke. We're with the FBI."

"Thank goodness," the French one breathed. She looked over at the corner. "How is Elizabeth?"

"I'm alright," Elizabeth said, her voice slightly muffled by Peter's jacket. He'd pulled her into a hug and didn't look like he was ever planning to let her go. The woman lifted her head, though, and frowned when she saw the man in the middle of the room. "Neal?"

"He's not waking up." Diana looked down at the ex-con again, biting the inside of her cheek. "Boss?"

Peter released Elle's hand and hurried over, kneeling in front of Neal and putting one hand on each of the man's shoulders. "Neal?"

His voice seemed to rouse Neal slightly, and the blue eyes opened slowly. "Peter?"

"Yeah, it's me." Peter pushed dark hair out of Neal's eyes and looked into them. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry," Neal whimpered, looking up at Peter with anguish in his face. Diana suddenly felt as if she was intruding on something private, silly as that was. She stepped away, beginning to get people to their feet and ready to go.

_(insert awkward POV change here!)_

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Why are _you _sorry?"

"I'm sorry," Neal repeated. "I tried, I really did, Peter, I didn't mean to let you down." He sounded nothing like himself, and it was scaring Peter. He only felt worse when Neal pitched forward slightly, burying his head in Peter's chest and throwing his arms around the Agent. It would've been comical if it hadn't been so sincere and desperate. "Please don't send me back," he pleaded into Peter's shirt.

Peter hesitantly patted Neal's back. "I'm not sending you anywhere, Neal."

"But I didn't keep her safe," Neal said, his voice muffled.

Suddenly things clicked into place. _Elizabeth. The threat. _"Oh, Neal."

"Don't send me back," Neal said again, his face pressing harder against Peter. In an impossibly quiet voice he added, "I need you."

Peter felt slightly awkward and relieved, and yeah, maybe a little bit sentimental, but mostly he just wanted to know what the heck they'd done to his partner to make him this way.

"Don't worry," Peter said. "You can't get rid of me that easy." Neal nodded sort of despondently and Peter looked up at the people silently surrounding him. "What did they..."

"I think they drugged him," a pregnant woman said matter-of-factly, but there was a little worry around the edges of her tone.

"Yes, it should wear off before much more time has passed," the Frenchwoman said quietly. "I've seen it before."

"Good," Peter said, heaving a long breath. "Elle? You okay?"

Elizabeth was watching him and Neal silently, brushing a finger along the consultant's shoulder. "Yeah. Ready to get out of here."

"That makes a whole lot of us," Peter said. He leaned down, speaking quietly into Neal's ear. "We're going to need to move fast to get out of here. Can you do that?"

"Y-yeah," Neal said, exhaling before sitting up. His dark hair was ruffled, but he looked a little more alert.

"Great." He helped both Neal and Elle up, not able to tell who was shakier. Probably Neal. "How many men are here?" He asked the room at large.

"Four more, including my brother," the Frenchwoman said. "They are not very loyal to him under pressure."

"That helps, thank you," Peter said. He nodded to Diana, and they stepped toward the door.

"Here," Diana said, handing Neal a gun. Neal took it with bleary distaste. "The rest of you, keep close, and if you have a gun, don't shoot unless you have to."

"Okay..."

Diana opened the door and Peter remained at the rear of the line, keeping an eye on Neal and supporting Elle with one arm.

"Keep quiet," Diana ordered. "And follow me."

They did so, making down an entire flight of stairs without meeting anyone-obviously the security could use some work.

But the reprieve ended as they rounded the corner

"Hey!" A fairly burly man shouted. He made a move for his gun, but when he saw Diana's gun trained on him, with so many others at the ready, his hands rose into the air instead.

"Thomas," Colette said, her quiet, collected voice holding a note of pleading. "Please, just let us pass."

"Davin said-"

"My brother says a lot of things," Colette half-snapped, then exhaled. "Listen, Thomas, either you can let us go by, or we will have to make you."

Thomas seemed to think for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Very well. I did not see anything."

From where he was standing, Peter could just barely distinguish the relief that flashed in the Frenchwoman's eyes.

"Thank you, Thom," she said.

"Good luck," the guard said gruffly. "Take care of yourself."

"You as well." Colette turned and started to walk away.

"Wait," Diana said, "are you sure we can trust him?"

"I am sure," Colette said, black hair swishing with her nod. "We need to continue forward."

Diana looked over to Peter and he nodded, believing Colette to know best.

"Alright then," Diana said, a little grudgingly.

_One down, three to go, _Peter thought grimly. He looked down at his wife. "How're you holding up?" He asked gently.

"I'm alright," Elizabeth said, her voice tired. "I'm just ready to get out of here."

"That makes two of us," Peter agreed. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her forehead, keeping his gaze up ahead of them.

The silence that surrounded them was tense, broken only by muted breathing and the small creaks of feet upon floorboards. They made it down to the front door without meeting anyone, and a general sigh of relief was heard.

"Where do you think Jones is?" Diana asked Peter.

"Hopefully nearby. Our first priority is to get the civilians out," he replied, reaching out and twisting the doorknob.

"'s locked auto-t'matically from the other side," Neal said in a voice that was just a little too loud.

"Shh," Peter prompted. The door was indeed locked. "Can you open it?"

Neal gave Peter a raised-eyebrow look. _Of course, _it said.

Only Neal would be able to pick locks while under the influence.

It seemed that they'd done this before, because Neal already had a bobby pin that was bent into the right shape. He slid it into the lock, lacking some of his usual grace, and the knob clicked.

"All done," Neal said.

Peter extended his hand once again to open the door, but a voice behind them made him freeze.

"Stop right there," Davin said. Peter turned slowly and saw their suspect (although they definitely more than _suspected _him now) flanked by the last two men and holding a gun.

A gun which was was pressed firmly to Jones's head. The agent had a piece of duct tape over his mouth and blood dripping down his forehead.

"Well, well," Davin said, his eyes glinting. "You almost made it."

"We almost did," Peter agreed, holding his gun with both hands. "Why don't you send my friend on over here and we can talk about this."

"Your friend, hm?" Davin shook his head. "I was under the impression that he was your partner, yours too," he nodded to Diana. "Agent Jones, it seems. The almighty FBI has finally come to the rescue."

No one responded to that.

"Now, we have two options here. One, you can set down your weapons and I'll decide what to do with you, or two, I shoot your friend here and then we see who's left standing after the bullets run out. Your choice."

Peter's eyes jumped from Jones to Diana, and he nodded slowly. "Put down the guns," he said.

After a brief hesitation, they obeyed, and a smile spread across Davin's face. "Good choice."

He shoved Jones back toward them and Diana set a hand on his arm, all of them waiting silently for Peter to tell them what to do. No pressure.

Peter looked back at Neal and tried to communicate what he needed the younger man to do. Through the drug-induced haze, he saw a flicker of acknowledgement.

"Davin, I take it?" Peter said. "I don't see why we can't come to some sort of arrangement about all of this. The rest of the FBI is on their way, and once they get in here, you're all going to be put away for a long time."

"And?" Davin asked with a bored roll of his eyes. "We will be long gone before your troops get here-and I very much doubt that they are coming, in any case."

Peter heard the tiniest click of a doorknob behind him and kept Davin talking. "Either way, isn't there something you want? Something the authorities can get for you that no one else can? Think about it. I can make that happen."

_I've been spending too much time around Neal, _Peter thought.

The henchmen were thinking about the offer. Davin didn't look as convinced, but he was obviously thinking about something.

"Let's say we make this deal," Davin said. "What is to say that you won't still let the FBI come and capture us the moment you leave here?"

"I give you my word," Peter said. Davin let out a harsh bark of laughter, and his partners chuckled uneasily.

"Oh, your word, why would I ever doubt that?"

There was a quiet rustling noise behind Peter and he felt Elizabeth take a step back.

"Hey, get back here!" Davin shouted. Neal quickly pulled the rest of the women through the doorway and Diana whipped out her spare gun (somehow she _always _had a spare somewhere). Peter pulled one up from the ground.

"Get them out of here, Neal," Peter ordered, his gun trained on Davin's chest. Jones was holding one now, too, his mouth still taped.

"On it," Neal said.

"You're never going to escape," Davin said. "This neighborhood is like a nest for criminals."

"We got in," Peter said, shrugging. "Getting out shouldn't be much harder." As much confidence as he was projecting, though, Peter honestly had no idea how he was going to get them out of this. They were at an impasse.

There were two quick thuds and the men behind Davin crumpled to the ground. Will and the blonde girl were standing over them with pipes.

"I'm sorry," the blonde said to the guy on the ground. "I hope you don't get a concussion." Will grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of Davin's reach, behind Peter.

Davin glared.

"Now," Peter said smugly. "_You_ have two options. Give it up, or I'll shoot you."

The Frenchman's gun fell to the floor and he held up his hands, his face stony. Will scooped up the weapons, Diana pulling out some zipties and one more pair of handcuffs.

"Where do you get all this stuff?" Jones asked, shaking his head.

Diana gave a half-smirk and shrugged, restraining the unconscious men while Jones took care of Davin. Only when they were all secure did Peter take his gun off them.

"Jones, Diana, stay with these three," Peter said. "I'm going to go make sure they're all okay."

"You got it," Diana said.

It was all Peter could do to keep himself from sagging in relief. That had been far too close for comfort. He looked down at the slight blonde boy next to him and patted the kid on the shoulder. Will flinched but looked up cautiously.

"Nice job back there, kid," Peter said. "We couldn't have done it without you."

A smirk played around the corners of Will's lips. "My pleasure, Agent Burke. Rachelle had the idea of helping you."

They strode down the steps to find Elle, Neal, and their companions waiting. Elle quickly wrapped her arms around Peter.

"Is it over?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said, catching Neal's eye and offering a reassuring smile. "It's over."

xxxxx

Neal could hear Hughes yelling from several feet away, even over the phone. Peter grimaced, trying to explain, and after a moment he hung up.

"They're on their way," he said, a small smile on his face .

"That's good," Neal said. He blinked hard a few times to clear the (thankfully) thinning fog on the edges of his vision.

Neal glanced over to where Elizabeth was sitting with their newfound companions, trying to calm them down. That was Elle. Even when she was hurt and scared she tried to help other people before herself.

"Neal?" Peter asked. "You in there?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry." Neal shook his head and looked up at his partner. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright. You were..." The agent coughed awkwardly. "You were pretty far gone when I got there."

"Was I?" Neal shrugged, restraining a wince as his shirt tightened over his stomach. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"I'm so reassured," Peter said drily. "Take off the jacket."

Neal bit his lip. "Uh, I'd rather not, it's... cold?"

_So eloquent, Neal,_ he thought.

_Hey, it's not _my_ fault._

_Stop arguing, please,_ Neal asked his brain. Wow, that sounded really sane.

"Neal," Peter said exasperatedly.

Neal started slightly. "Sorry," he said, offering a sheepish grin.

"Take off your jacket," Peter repeated, his voice firm and tinged with concern.

Sighing, Neal shrugged off the jacket and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. He heard Peter's sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" The agent asked, stepping closer and setting one finger on the bloody fabric.

"I got stabbed," Neal mumbled.

"Stabbed," Peter said. "Stabbed. Neal, why didn't you say anything?"

Neal looked up slightly, meeting the agent's eyes. "It didn't seem important at the time."

"Well, it's important _now_," Peter said. "Is there anything else you need to mention?"

"Nothing serious," Neal said, his fingers tightening around the jacket as his stomach gave a painful jolt.

Peter looked at him suspiciously for a moment before nodding, putting a gentle hand on the small of Neal's back and guiding him to a patch of grass.

"Sit here. Don't damage yourself anymore."

"Hey-"

"I mean it, Neal," Peter said. "Just take it easy until they get here."

Neal saw sincerity in Peter's actions and sighed. "Alright. Thank you, Peter."

"No problem," Peter said, a half-smile tugging at his mouth.

Neal sat silently as Peter walked away, taking care of things as he always did. A rustling sounded next to his ear and he turned quickly.

"Ah," he said, gritting his teeth and exhaling slowly.

"Careful," a young voice said. "That looks nasty."

"You're the one who helped them out," Neal said, looking over the messy blonde hair and sharp blue eyes.

"Yeah," the kid said simply.

"What's your name?"

"Will. Will Dalenci." The boy held out his hand and Neal made a feeble attempt at shaking it.

"Neal Caffrey," he said. "I owe you one."

Will shrugged. He hovered for a moment and Neal gave a small smile.

"Have a seat. I'm on ground arrest until further notice."

Will returned his smile hesitantly and sat down on the cool grass. "Your friend really cares about you," the boy noted after a moment of silence.

"Hm?" Neal lifted his head from his knees and blinked.

"Your friend," Will said. "He did a lot to get here. He must really care about you."

Neal turned his gaze to where Peter was rubbing Elizabeth's shoulders and speaking quietly to the skittish women.

The corners of Neal's mouth lifted as he nodded. "Yes, I suppose he does."


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Alright, I just wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read this far. I've had some crazy times while I've been writing this, and it's just gone to show me that I'm much better off when I prewrite more. It's also much better for you guys! But your support and your patience has been so amazing, and I wanted to thank all of you in a more tangible way. Anyone who reviews this last chapter, anonymously or signed in, can send a prompt for a little White Collar drabble. It be a sentence, a situation, even just a word or a character. I'll be putting them all into one fic as I write them, and since it's summer, they won't take two months to write this time around. Once again, you guys are so great. And White Collar was amazing tonight! Finally back on top as far as writing goes. So, long note over. Enjoy the last chapter! _

Elizabeth felt herself drifting toward the surface of something, a light shining brightly just outside her eyelids. She let out a small "mmph," and her eyes opened slowly.

"Elle?" A voice asked, worry and relief mixing into it.

"Yeah?" Her throat was dry, and it hurt to make the word come out. Blinking a few times to adjust to the light, she saw Peter sitting right next to her, holding her hand gently.

"Elizabeth, you're awake," he said, standing and pressing a feather-light kiss to her nose. "I was so worried about you. It's so good to have you back."

She smiled gently, pushing herself up onto the pillows and exhaling gently. "What's happened?"

"You feel asleep while we were waiting for the police," her husband said, smiling fondly. "Davin and his friends have all been arrested, and everyone else has gotten treatment."

Elizabeth nodded slowly, trying to take everything in. "What about Colette?"

"She's probably going to face a few more mild consequences," Peter said, his expression turning slightly sad. "She was very cooperative and helpful, but she did still help them."

"But she didn't want to!" Elizabeth protested, leaning closer to her husband.

"I know that," Peter said, pressing her back down. "We'll see what comes of it."

Sighing, she nodded. "Okay." She smiled again, looking at Peter happily. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Peter said, sitting forward and kissing her softly. Elizabeth returned the kiss wholeheartedly until something occurred to her and she pulled back, gasping.

"What? Did I hurt you?" Peter asked, his eyes widening.

"No, no, I'm fine," Elizabeth said. "But... where's Neal? Is he okay?"

Peter's chest heaved in a sigh and he sat back down. "Neal... Neal was in pretty bad shape. He has a couple of broken and bruised ribs, something's wrong with his wrist and one of his legs... I think the doctor said something about a fractured... something else. And there was the stab wound, of course."

Elizabeth bit her lip, nodding. "But he's okay, right? He's going to make it and everything."

"Yes," Peter said, his brow wrinkling with stress. "He is. But he's still out, they have him on a bunch of drugs for the pain. The doctor was surprised he made it as long as he did without passing out from it."

"But that's just Neal for you," Elizabeth said, her chest tight as she thought of how ardently Neal had fought to protect her, to protect everyone.

"Yeah," Peter said, his voice quiet. "That's Neal for you."

"When can I go see him?" Elle asked.

"When the doctors say you can," Peter said, smiling slightly. Elizabeth leaned her head back against the wall, the cool paint soothing her headache.

"Have you spoken to him?" She asked.

"No, he's been asleep, like I said."

"So he's alone?" Elizabeth was horrified at the picture of Neal waking up abandoned in a hotel room.

"No, June is there," Peter said. "The kid has flitted in and out a couple times, he had to stick around so we could get his statement."

"What was his name again?" Elizabeth asked. Everything after she'd hit her head was fuzzy, especially the rescue itself.

"William Dalenci," Peter said. "He's thirteen or fourteen, he said, and he lives with his mom and two younger sisters about seven blocks from where you were being held."

"Hmm." She nodded, thinking. "He seemed like a nice young man."

Peter moved so that he was sitting next to her. "He is." He exhaled. "He's a lot like Neal."

xxxxx

Neal didn't come to a single time in the next two days. Considering his situations, the doctors said it was completely normal. That didn't stop them all from worrying. Peter nearly wore a hole in the floor and Mozzie was twitching even more than usual. Elizabeth tried to keep everyone calm, but she was just as concerned.

_Please, Neal, _she pleaded silently. _Wake up soon._

xxxxx

For a long time Neal had been aware of voices around him, dim and jumbled. He hadn't had much sensation besides that, save for a constant pain that was just out of reach.

Finally, he was able to push himself out of whatever hole he was in and find the light, but when he found it, he half wished to go back down. A dull pain assaulted him, and the voices suddenly became clear.

"-waking up, look," Elizabeth said.

His eyelids were heavy, and it took him a moment to force them open, but when he did, he saw a circle of worried faces around him.

"Neal, dear?" June asked. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Neal said, but it came out as rather a croak. He winced at the sound of it. "Anyone have... water?"

Elizabeth was quick to help, handing him a glass and helping him not spill (and if that made him feel a bit like an invalid, he was tired enough not to say so).

He tried to swing himself over to stand up, but sharp, stabbing pain erupted in several places all over his body, and he barely restrained a hiss.

"Hold _still,"_ Peter told him angrily. "You're in no condition to be standing."

Neal let his head go back against the pillow and frowned at the ceiling. He didn't remember having felt too much pain while they were escaping... Maybe it had been the adrenaline and the shock. Peter was just concerned, he knew, and he told himself not to snap back.

"Am I allowed to sit up?" He asked in a mock-repentant tone.

Peter gave him a dry look.

"I'll help you, sweetie," the nurse who had been in the circle said. "You don't want to tear those stitches." She gave him a sympathetic look and he returned it with the brightest smile he could muster. He saw Peter roll his eyes in the background and that just made his smile widen, even though he still wasn't sure where he and Peter stood.

When he was sitting up and the nurse was satisfied that he probably wasn't going to die anytime soon, she left them alone with strict instructions not to "bother the poor dear too much."

"Really, Neal?" Peter asked. "Do you have to be like this with _every _woman you meet?"

Neal shrugged. "If the shoe fits..."

"Right, what was I thinking," Peter said, rolling his eyes again. Neal hadn't realized how much he'd missed irritating the man until now.

They all fussed over him for a few moments (minus Peter, of course) and then Elizabeth shot looks between them and suddenly quick excuses were made.

"I need to-"

"-my grandaughter called-"

"I was supposed to go visit Rachelle-"

"I'm hungry."

Everyone gave Mozzie strange looks, but he shrugged. "The constant smell of bureaucracy, evil, and disinfectant puts me off my appetite, I want to go home and have something that doesn't taste of hospitals."

"I'll take care of that," June said graciously.

"I'll come with you to visit," Peter said to Elle, but she turned him around.

"Oh, that's alright. I wanted to see her alone anyway."

"But-"

"Peter."

"Have fun," he said grouchily, returning to stand by Neal.

Neal had watched this all in amusement, but once everyone else was gone, the silence was rather awkward.

"So," he said, coughing slightly. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," Peter said, nodding.

"Hm, interesting," Neal said.

"Yeah. It was an adventure."

"Sure was," Neal agreed.

They both started speaking at the same time, and both of them chuckled.

"You go first," Peter said.

"If you insist." Neal gave a slightly teasing smile before growing serious. "Peter, I don't... I don't remember some of what happened, so I don't know if I already told you this but... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep Elizabeth safe, and that I let everything get so far off track from where it should've been. I didn't... I didn't do my job. I failed you." His voice grew quiet at the end, and he bit the end of his tongue.

"Always so dramatic," Peter said lightly. "I should've gone first. Neal, we did go over this. And I don't blame you." He looked down at the ex-con firmly. "At all. You did the best anyone could expect out of you and you got everyone back alive. That's a miracle in and of itself."

Neal just shrugged silently, still not meeting Peter's eyes.

"I mean it, Neal," Peter said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "There are a lot of men who would've cracked under that sort of pressure. You didn't. You... you did a good job, Neal, and I'm proud to call you my partner."

Looking up slowly, Neal smiled. "Thank you, Peter," he said, his voice rough.

Peter smiled back. "Thank _you_."

xxxxx

It was a long nine days until Neal was finally released from the hospital. They wanted to keep him for observation for another two, but he was getting so restless that the doctor came and told Peter in no uncertain terms to have him out by lunchtime.

Everyone was more than happy to oblige them.

Neal was finally able to get clean in his own shower and wear his own clothes, and it was amazing how the loft had stayed exactly the same even though he hadn't been there in over a month. Well, he was a few bottles of wine lighter, and there were some interesting trinkets left about, but that was only to be expected with a house guest like Mozzie.

He spent a little extra time combing through his hair, fixing his tie just so, selecting the right shoes. It felt good to be back.

"Neal, are you in there?" Mozzie asked, knocking on the door impatiently.

"Yeah," Neal said, giving himself a small smile in the mirror. The sleeves and shirt were still a little uncomfortable on his skin in a few places, and his arm was supposed to be kept in a sling most of the time, but really, it was a pretty good deal compared to what could've happened.

"Well, hurry up," Mozzie said. "We're already running late and I don't want to miss out on the soup."

"Alright, I'm coming, Moz," Neal said. "Calm down," he urged his long-time friend with a smirk. "Elle won't let Peter eat all of the soup."

"You'd better hope not," Mozzie grumbled, easily keeping pace with Neal.

They took a cab to the Burke's residence, exchanging a glance before Neal rang the doorbell.

"You know, Neal, I'm glad you weren't killed in your latest quest to aid the G-men," Mozzie commented lightly. "I'm not sure I'd brave the Suit's house alone, but I do love Elle's cooking."

Neal laughed, shifting to his left foot. "I'm glad too, Moz."

Elizabeth opened the door and a delicious smell flooded out toward them. "Hello, boys," she said. "You're late."

"Neal was preening," Mozzie said. Neal gave the back of his head a look, but it didn't offer much gratification.

"Come in, have a seat," Elizabeth said graciously, giving them both a warm smile. "Everything's all ready."

"Excellent," Mozzie said, rubbing his hands together as he sat down in the dining room. Sure enough, Peter was seated at the table, surrounded by a tantalizing array of foods. Neal inhaled deeply as he took a chair.

"This looks... amazing, Elizabeth," he said. "You really went all out."

"Well," Elizabeth shrugged. "I figured the occasion called for a little extra celebration. Now, dig in."

They did so, gladly. Once the initial hunger had been overcome, conversation began to flow more easily.

"I went to see Rachelle and Lea today," Elizabeth said. "I saw a few of the others too. Everyone seems to be recovering well. I'm going out to lunch with them next week."

"That's good," Neal said, leaning back. "I'm glad none of them were seriously hurt."

"Me too," Elizabeth agreed. "And Peter-" she smiled at her husband, "went out to visit someone a few days ago, too."

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Neal flashed him a catlike grin. "Oh, really? Who did you visit, Peter?"

"Just Will, the kid who helped us out," Peter said, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Ah." Neal nodded. "Why?"

"I... Uh... Well, actually, you see-"

"Peter arranged new work for him," Elizabeth broke in, a light air of exasperation about her. "Goodness, Peter, you can tell them." She shook her head, then continued, "It pays better and it makes it so that he won't have to walk through such dangerous neighborhoods at night anymore."

"Aw, Peter," Neal said, nudging the agent with his elbow. "You've been playing me this whole time, you're just a huge softie."

Peter swatted his hand away and took a bite of his roll grouchily. "It seemed like a good payback, okay?"

"In all honesty, Peter, it was a very nice thing of you to do," Neal said, feeling a little nostalgia. "I'm sure it meant the world to him and his family."

"You're not all bad, Suit," Mozzie agreed.

"Alright, enough sentimental fluff," Peter said, stacking his plate. "Let's have some ice cream."

"I'll drink to that."


End file.
